


Wolf, Wolf

by sebastianL (felix_atticus)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Because we have flashbacks, Character Study, Do you like flashbacks?, Love, M/M, Pining, Second Chances, This story could just be called Pining and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 105,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felix_atticus/pseuds/sebastianL
Summary: Remus lives a quiet life after the war. He works on his book, thinks of the past, and spends all his spare moments with Sirius. It all seems so perfect. Only when have things ever been perfect?A story of friendship, loss, second chances, and a complicated love that endures beyond reason.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thirdeyeblinkings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirdeyeblinkings/gifts).



> I was 80 pages in on a story that I was incredibly passionate about, after a span of writer's block lasting most of a year. Then someone comes along and innocently asked in the comments for The Man Who Lived, "Would you ever write about Remus Lupin and Sirius Black?" And just like that, I had the entire story outlined in my head and a compulsion to spill it all onto the page. The other story disappeared into the night, and my summer was consumed.
> 
> This is all to say that if you don't like the story, then Thirdeyeblinkings is to blame and not me.
> 
> But seriously, without that comment, this story wouldn't exist. Thank you, Thirdeyeblinkings, for your kindness, your enthusiasm, and your patience as I stumbled through this. This one is most gratefully dedicated to you for the inspiration.
> 
> As per usual, there will be no individual content warnings per chapter. If you have issues with self hatred, grudges, selfishness, poor decisions, werewolf transformations, excessive use of the phrase 'of course', incorrect uses of 'effect' and 'affect', death, loss, and grief, then this may not be the story for you.
> 
> For the rest of you, welcome to my take on one of my all time favourite characters, Remus Lupin. The story is complete, with chapters uploading once a day, with a week long break between parts one and two. For returning readers, hello again. New readers, it's lovely to see you.
> 
> Now, let's start with the past, where so many of these stories begin.
> 
>  
> 
> ___

When I was thirty-three, there was a knock at my door.

            This was considerably unexpected. I lived in a tiny cottage, hidden by the fields of eastern Yorkshire, far from people. It wasn’t as though a neighbour would be dropping by for the proverbial cup of butterbeer.

            I drew my wand, putting on a friendly face and preparing to drop whoever had come for me. Taking a breath, I went to the door, and opened it.

            It was a damned good thing I ask questions first and hex second. It was Albus Dumbledore on the other side. I never had occasion to go against the man, and if I had, I wouldn’t be standing here today.

            “I hope I didn’t startle you, Remus,” he said, calm as anything. He was taller than I am, with his long white beard and hair, over robes that probably cost more than I’ve ever made in a year. He looked like the greatest wizard who ever lived, in short. It helped that I knew he was.

            Pocketing my wand, I reached out a hand. “Not at all, sir. What a pleasant surprise.”

            Dumbledore shook my hand, that old twinkle in his eye. My eyes have certainly never twinkled, though I’ve had the pleasure of friends who possess that delightful feature. “I wondered if I might have a few minutes of your time.”

            I did my best not to let on how staggered I was. I had not seen Dumbledore in twelve years. The last I saw him was after Alice and Frank were in the A&E at St. Mungo’s. The survivors from the Order got together for drinks, and then we scattered back to what would become our everyday lives. He and I exchanged Christmas cards, though. No matter where I ended up, and it was never the same place as the year before, a beautiful card would be on my doorstep when I woke up December 25th. The only one that would be.

            I stepped back to let him in. He had to duck his head, just like I did, and when I saw his blue eyes sweep over the place, I felt a rush of shame and frustration. I brushed it off quickly as I could. Some things cannot be helped. Clearing my throat, I put my hands in my pockets and said, nodding to the place, “Apologies for everything.”

            Dumbledore went to the small table, taking a seat. The cottage was one room, my bed folded into the corner, my books piled floor to ceiling. “No apologies needed, Remus. If this is what makes you happy.”

            It seemed a strange remark from him. In fact, it seemed near insensitive, but I knew that however he meant it, he didn’t mean it like _that_ , so I simply noted it and said, “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you. I don’t entertain that frequently—”

            He pulled a bottle of firewhiskey from inside his robes. “Remus, a guest should always bring his host a bottle.” He even took two crystal tumblers from his pocket, setting them on the table. Nodding towards the other chair, Dumbledore said, “Join me.”

            As if he was the host and I the guest, in my own home. I didn’t mind. It had been so long since I spoke to another wizard. Since it was me and someone I considered a friend. I sat across from him and watched as he poured us drinks.

            When we both had our glasses, Dumbledore raised his. “To Hogwarts.”

            I lifted a brow, but echoed, “To Hogwarts.”

            The alcohol was—well, let’s just say it had been a _long_ time since I had anything of that quality. Part of me wanted to gulp the whole thing in one go.

            I took a deep breath, cradling the glass in both hands, and asked, “Are you able to stay a little while?”

            “I am.”

            “Then let’s discuss what it is you want from me first. Afterwards, we can catch up, if that’s a thing you’d like to do.”

            Dumbledore paused, then smiled slightly. “A great many witches and wizards need flattery and prevarication before a question can be asked. One of my favourite things about you, Remus, is that you’ve never required either.” He looked over the table, where my papers were set out. “You’ve been teaching.”

            “Tutoring,” I said. “Math.”

            “And do you like that?”

            “My options are rather limited—”

            “Do you enjoy it, Remus?”

            I thought of my students, my Muggle children who were done school for the summer. I thought of how I missed their moments of minor triumph. “I do,” I answered.

            Dumbledore said, “It’s time for you to come home, Remus.” I frowned at him, not comprehending. “I want to offer you a position. Teaching, at Hogwarts.”

            To say that I stared for an inordinately long amount of time would be an understatement.

            At last, I said, “With all due respect, sir, that is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had.”

            Dumbledore broke out into chuckles. After a moment, he said, “That’s another quality I’ve long admired about you, Remus. You’ve never held me in higher regard than I deserve.”

            “I did say ‘with all due respect.’ Hopefully that helped.”

            “I have a position that needs filling. And in all the Isles, I could not think of anyone more suited.”

            Not seriously considering it for a moment, I asked, “Which position?”

            “Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

            It was my turn to laugh. I stopped, then looked at him, realized he was serious, and started laughing again. Dumbledore simply waited, sipping his drink.

            Coughing to suppress my laughter, I said, “No offense, sir, but that sounds like a terrible joke.”

            “Oh no. I assure you, I have a whole arsenal of bad jokes at my disposal. I just learned one about a leprechaun. Would you care to hear it?”

            “Perhaps after we’ve settled this—” I looked at him, trying to find a diplomatic word for the situation. When I couldn’t, I gave him an honest one. “Madness.”

            He grimaced slightly, placing his glass on the table. Folding his long fingers in his lap, Dumbledore said, “You were one of the brightest students to ever pass through the halls of Hogwarts. I’ve wanted you to return for some time, but very rarely do positions open at the school.”

            “That’s not even nearly accurate. Every year you need a new DA professor.”

            “Admittedly, that is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that I believe you would be an excellent professor in that particular subject.”

            I shook my head. “If you wanted an excellent DA professor, you would have placed Severus in the position. But you care for him. You’re looking for someone disposable, and I fit the bill.”

            The disappointment on his face was so great that I nearly took back what I said. Nonetheless, I believed every word, so I simply looked at the floor instead of him.

            When Dumbledore spoke, his voice was quiet, and solemn. “I didn’t know that you thought so little of me, Remus. I did worry, however, that you thought so little of yourself.” I could see him slowly twiddling his thumbs. For a long time, he said nothing, and I did not attempt to placate him. “Voldemort is returning.”

            I lifted my eyes.

            Dumbledore gazed back at me, face placid. As if we were discussing taxes instead of the world’s end. “He will be back, soon. This year? Five years? I cannot say. But he will be back, and yes, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts is cursed. He saw to that. So no, I cannot put Severus into the position, much as he desires it. He will be our spy when Voldemort rises. And yes, I have attempted to put disposable people into the position. It turned out poorly. I thought that perhaps Gilderoy would fail his way into dismissal, but he was very nearly responsible for the death of Harry Potter and two of the Weasley children. And before that—Quirrell. I thought he was disposable as well, and he brought Voldemort back inside Hogwarts’ walls. _I_ brought Voldemort back into Hogwarts. By using people as pawns, I have made very, very dangerous mistakes. Still—the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts must be filled. Now, more than ever, students need to be trained against dark magic. They need to be prepared. There can be no more place holders. I need witches and wizards of the highest order. Even if it’s only for a year. I am asking you, for one year, to come home. It is vital. I am asking you…come home, and teach Harry what he needs to know.”

            It was classic Dumbledore. I recognized it for what it was. Truth mixed with flattery and portents. He still gave a good speech. He could still stir the heart. I was affected, of course. Dumbledore could no more tell the straight truth than he could sprout wings, however. I knew him.

            “I must decline,” I said.

            “Why?”

            “Well, once a month, I turn into a creature. And it’s not a pygmy puff.” I shook my head. “Why do you think I’m out here? There’s no one for a day’s walk. I’m not near anyone I could hurt. No, Dumbledore—I put myself near students once, and…much as I appreciate your kindness in letting me do so, I could not return. Not like this. And there is no changing this.”

            “There is a way to alleviate it.”

            I barked out a laugh. “What, wolfsbane potion? I’m certain you pay your professors well, sir, but not enough to afford that.”

            “You would have an endless supply.”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “I have a potions master who can prepare a batch each full moon. It wouldn’t stop the transformation, no, but your mind would be unchanged. You’d be at no risk of harming anyone. Not even yourself.”

            The temptation…oh, he was clever. Dumbledore was so impossibly clever. Of all the things in the world that I could want—this was the oldest of my hurts, though I had collected many others over the years.

            “Severus would never agree,” I said.

            “He would if instructed.”

            “I don’t…” The opportunity to stay myself. To not be that…thing. To keep my mind instead of losing it every 29 days. It was almost unfair—no. It was unfair, to dangle this before me.

            “He won’t care for it. But he will do it, if I ask him.” Dumbledore watched me from behind those half moon spectacles, then said, “You would teach Harry. Have you seen him at all?”

            I gave it a few seconds, then admitted softly, “Every few years. I went to King’s Cross the first time he went. Hid so Molly wouldn’t see me. Harry gave me a terrible fright. It was like seeing a ghost.”

            Dumbledore was offering me so much. I had lived a life in which very little was offered to me. My adult life was one of subsistence, nothing more. Always alone, never staying in one place more than a few months. Slave to a curse I could not control, unable to fulfill whatever potential I might have had. The people I loved most were either dead or…

            Gone. He was gone.

            Dumbledore was speaking again, but I interrupted him, perhaps the only time I ever did. “I’m afraid I must refuse your offer. This is very kind…and pragmatic. But I must…I must decline.”

            He didn’t lose patience, and I knew that I was in for a fight. Or at the least, for him to be very Dumbledore and dig his heels in for a genteel war of attrition. “Was there any place you were ever happier than at Hogwarts?”

            “No.”

            “And that’s why you don’t want to return,” Dumbledore astutely observed.

            “My memories…my memories of Hogwarts are…they are tainted. Except when they’re not. Sometimes, I think of our years there, and it’s…like it should be. I think of the past with the rosiest of glasses, like nothing that came after affects my perception of it. The four of us. It would be nice to think of Hogwarts that way.” I had another sip of firewhiskey, cringing at the bite of it. “What we thought Hogwarts was, it was never real. It wasn’t the start of something. It was a lie, that we would all go on and do great things. James and Peter are dead. Sirius killed them both. I’m the only one of the four still here, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not doing all that well. It wasn’t a magical time. It’s not a thing I should be nostalgic for. He is a stain on every memory I have of that place. And sometimes he’s not. Memory is…mutable. Perception is subjective. If I went back there…to be honest, I think it would break my heart. And I’ve had more than my share of that.”

            Dumbledore leaned forward, his hands between his knees. He tried to catch my eyes, but I kept them firmly on the floor. “It is not a good thing to dwell in the past. Nor is it wise to ignore it. We must balance memory and perception. It informs who we become. It is, in fact, the basis of who we are. It’s not my intention to force you to relive the worst moments of your life. I do that fairly regularly myself, and I’d be quite perturbed to learn that you do the same. There is, however, something to be said for confronting our past. To look it in the eye and see it as it was instead of allowing regret or nostalgia to cloud it.”

            “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

            “You’re a clever man, Remus. You know that things, people, memories—none of them exist in black and white.”

            “You want me to believe that it’s good for me. Going back there and confronting my past. You only want something from me, and I don’t blame you for that. I’m not upset with you for that. But do not act as though it’s for my own good. Much as I owe you. Much as I respect and admire you. Please don’t lie to me. I will go if you tell me to. If you’re asking me to repay the debts that I owe you, I’ll go. Just don’t lie to me.”

            Dumbledore reached up with a sigh. Hands still linked together, he scratched at his brows with his thumbs. After he’d had a moment to think, he closed his eyes briefly.

            “I am going to tell you something that, so far as I know, has been considered a pernicious rumour for some years. It’s considered such a ridiculous rumour that it’s barely even spoken anymore. But I’ll tell you that this rumour is true, so that maybe you understand I’m not doing this from entirely selfish motives.”

            “I didn’t mean—”

            He lifted his hands, silencing me. Dumbledore said, “You and I have led very different lives, Remus Lupin, but in some regards, we have similarities that others may not be aware of. We’re half-bloods, which is well known. We excelled at school, also well known. What remains unspoken is that when I was young man, I fell very deeply in love with my best friend.”

            I looked at him.

            Dumbledore continued, “I keep the secrets of those times in my memories, because I’m ashamed of them. Not because I loved him—to love someone is never a thing to regret. Love is the most important thing there is. I’m ashamed because of what he became. What I overlooked. And I’m ashamed because sometimes I think of those times, and I’m not ashamed. It is all…so very complicated. Over ninety years, and I cannot untwine all the threads of my memories and feelings about it. So I’ve chosen to ignore it. I left all that behind, and another story was told in its place, and I let that story stand because it’s much simpler than the truth. My past, and his past, it remains unexamined. It’s simply an untouched hurt. And that is one of my great regrets. I cannot help but see parallels between you and I.”

            I gazed at him, then said, “You have absolutely no scruples, Headmaster.”

            He smiled widely at that, but his eyes remained serious. “You are still such a young man. Your life has been more difficult than I would have ever wished for you. But do not be me. I have lived my life alone, for fear of what might happen if I opened my heart again to love. Remus. Come home. Face the past, so that you might prepare for the future. This could be the start of something wonderful. Or it could merely put to rest old ghosts. Either way—though I do have the most selfish of reasons—this will do you more good than you could possibly imagine.”

            Because he was Albus Dumbledore, because there was never an argument he could not win, I said yes. Reluctantly, but I said yes. I agreed to return to the place where the Marauders were born. Where I ran the woods with my mates. Where I made the best friends I would ever have.

            Where I met Sirius.

            And that was the year my memories changed again.

            Only my memories always change. Some days it’s hard to remember what’s true and what’s false. I wonder if that happens to everyone.

            Or is it only me?


	2. Part One: Again

I wake with my alarm, from dreams of the moon and open spaces. And running. I can’t remember the last time I went running.

            For a few minutes, I take the opportunity to be lazy and stay in bed. I can’t remember what day of the week it is. They jumble together. It’s actually rather nice. Most of my life, I was so aware of dates and deadlines. This is when the rent is due. This is the day I have to win these people’s allegiance by. This is when the school year ends, when the job ends, this is when I will be alone again.

            Only that’s all done now. The battles are won, and I have no real obligations. I wondered if I would be bothered by a life free of major responsibilities.

            I’m not. Sometimes I wonder a bit about that. Not too long. I remember that my life has mostly been one of worry. Maybe it will be again. I will enjoy the quiet while it lasts.

            Once I’ve laid in bed long enough, I sit up, rubbing my hands over my face. I feel well rested. No aches, no pains. Hungry, though.

            Casting off the sheets, I pad out into my white and grey flat, stretching my arms as I go. This might be my favourite place that I’ve ever lived. Well, besides Hogwarts, when I was a child. Everything about it says Muggle. It’s uncluttered and it all seems to go together. The only colour to the place is my books, and they’re on bookshelves painted a simple white. It seems new. You never go into a witch or wizard’s house and think it could have been built within the last decade. This place has no history. I have no idea who lived here before me, if anyone did.

            The older I get, the more I feel like embracing my Muggle side. My mother was a Muggle. It’s rare that half bloods lean away from their magical side as they mature. I’m not saying I’ve moved away from my wizarding roots or anything like that. I just think it’s a shame to not explore half my history.

            I turn on the stove, leaving it to warm, and go to use the toilet and see if I need to shave. The answer is yes. It’s always yes. My hair is a greyish brown, and the greys are more obvious around my chin. Getting older. Every time I see a grey hair, I have to remind myself to be grateful for them. I never thought I’d live long enough to go grey.

            I’ll shave after I shower, and I’ll shower after I’ve eaten. I want eggs. And sausage. Toast. Maybe I’ll make myself a large breakfast, just to make up for all the years I went without.

            Walking back to the kitchen, scratching at my stubble, I see that I left my papers out on the table again. I do mean to put them away when I finish for the night, but for some reason I never remember. With a sigh, I pile them up, even though I’ll scatter them again later. I cap the pens, putting them in their mug. It has tartan on it. It’s awful, but I’ve had it for years and can’t imagine getting rid of it now.

            I open the cupboards, getting the pan from the top shelf. I’m about to find butter when a little stone bounces off the window pane.

            Oh, for heaven’s—

            Before I can do anything, a voice hollers up, “Remus! I’m standing outside your house, regardless of your opinion on the topic!”

            Smiling crookedly, I turn off the stove before going to the window. I push it up, locking it in place, then lean outside. Trying to look as disapproving as possible, I say, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. If you’re not going to owl, you have to use the telephone.”

            With an eyeroll that makes him look about twenty-five years younger, Sirius says, “I’m not using that ridiculous Muggle magic.”

            “Muggle magic is a contradiction in terms.”

            “Stop being difficult, Moony. Let’s go get lunch.”

            “Lunch? I was only about to make myself breakfast.”

            “Breakfast? It’s near noon.”

            “It’s not,” I exclaim.

            Sirius nods, pointing up at the sky. He’s right. The day is overcast, but I can still see the sun glowing through at its apex. I sigh, scrubbing at my eyes. “Took you long enough, but you’ve gotten rather lazy, Remus.”

            “I’m not hearing this from a man who’s never held a paying job in his life.”

            Shrugging, Sirius says, “Why work when I can get by on my looks?” He nods over his shoulder. “Come on. I want curry.”

            “No,” I groan. “I can’t. Not again.”

            “But I love curry.”

            “We only had curry yesterday.”

            “Yes, because I _love_ curry. You know what they never had in Azkaban, Moony? Curry.”

            I gaze down at him, shaking my head. “One day I’ll let you stop playing that card.”

            With a grin, Sirius says, “Doubtful. Go on, then. Put on some clothes. I’m famished.”

            For a second, I pretend to be put upon. Like this is a terrible hardship. I can’t, though. “I’ll be five minutes.”

            As I pull down the window, I hear Sirius call, “Be three! I said _famished_.”

 

Closing the door after myself, I find Sirius leaning against the gate. He does it the same way he did as a boy, hands in his pockets, legs crossed at the ankles. Sirius has always been the champion at leaning. I swear he could do it if there were nothing but air.

            Pocketing my flat key, I look him over. “Is that another new jacket?”

            Straightening, Sirius spreads the lapels. “Do you like it?”

            It’s blue velour with a silvery inside, a few shades away from the grey of his eyes. The cuffs come halfway down his hands. “Glad to see you’ve never really left the ‘70s,” I reply, joining his side.

            Sirius scoffs as we walk down the street. “I’ll have you know, the ‘70s are very in right now. This is fashion.”

            “It’s fashion?”

            “Yes, which I would not expect you to know a thing about.”

            I glance down at my brown slacks and vest, with a sensible white shirt. No, I’ve never understood fashion. That was always securely Sirius’ realm and no one else. “Are you saying I don’t look sharp?”

            Sirius laughs the way he always has. One or two barks, like he’s too good for a third. He glances at me, and I see his eyes go kind. “Sharp as you’ve ever been.”

            “Which means not at all. I know you too well to trust a compliment that comes from your mouth.”

            “Now come on. Have you ever met a more honest man than me?”

            “Probably every day of my life.”

            He clutches his hands over his heart. “That cuts deep, Remus. Terribly, terribly deep.”

            I snort, and we walk for awhile down the quiet street. I like the neighbourhood. It mostly empties out during the day. People off to work, to school. They return in the afternoon, and I’ll hear children running up and down the lane while I write. The people next door to me blast music that I haven’t heard since 1988, when I was living in Kent. It’s usually a little on the grey side, weather-wise, but that’s just London for you.

            “You remember we have plans tonight, don’t you?”

            Furrowing my brows, I ask, “Do we?”

            Sirius gives me a hard elbow. “Harry and Ginny.”

            “Of course.”

            “I swear, I think you might be hexed some days.”

            “It’s only—things run together. I’m not used to this. Not the way you are.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I always had some kind of set schedule. Not having one—I guess it muddles me.”

            “Last time I had a set schedule was school. No thank you. I prefer my freedom.”

            “You were hardly a—” I stop myself before I say it.

            Neither of us says anything for a moment. Sirius is the one to rescue us both. “You know, I had to extend my closet again.”

            “Of course you did. You know that there are better things you could do with your money, don’t you?”

            “Like what? Donate to orphans? Save the purple-spotted lippididee? Pointless. Better spent on my wardrobe. Hands down.”

            “You’re ridiculous.”

            “Ridiculous is owning a single pair of shoes.”

            “These work just fine—”

            “We’re going shopping next week.”

            “Over my dead body.”

            “How is that people think I’m the dramatic one in this friendship?”

            “Because you are. Always have been, always will be.”

            “Please, Moony. You have a flair for it.” Sirius puts the back of his hand to his forehead, eyes rolling back. “Not—not curry again! I couldn’t possibly! Oh—the hardship!”

            I wait for him to finish, then repeat, “You’re ridiculous.”

 

When the waitress asks if we want mild, medium, or hot, Sirius says, “Hot. Hotter the better.” He hands her the menu and winks. “Thanks, love.” When she turns away, he tilts his head back to look at her lower portion.

            “Don’t ogle the staff,” I say, unfolding my napkin and organizing my utensils.

            “Why not?” Sirius replies, incensed.

            Saxena’s is the same place we went to at least twice a month in the years between leaving Hogwarts and things imploding. Nothing has changed. Not the decorations on the wall, or the recipes, or the photographs by the door of all the Muggle celebrities who’ve eaten here since the place opened in the ‘60s. It’s a long walk from where I live, but Sirius would rather have his fingernails pulled than ride public transit, and it’s not exactly smart to apparate around central London. Besides, I never mind walking with Sirius. It’s the high point of my day, seeing him.

            While we wait for our food, he drapes his coat over the back of his chair and goes about rolling up his sleeves. He’s wearing a white shirt, same as I am, only it’s impossibly white, and structured like it was made for him and him alone. Probably was. Going shopping with him entails hearing the word ‘bespoke’ more times than is strictly necessary for a lifetime.

            He threads his fingers through his black hair, and catches me looking. With a smile, Sirius asks, “What?”

            I shake my head. “Nothing.”

            “So? How’s that book of yours coming?”

            “Oh, you know—it’s coming.”

            Sirius puts an arm over the back of his chair. He sticks his legs out into the aisle, like no one else would even think of using it because he wants to stretch. “Remember—I get first copy.”

            “How can I forget? You remind me every single time you ask about it.”

            “That’s because you have the memory of a goldfish these days. And because I want the first copy of the first edition of what is sure to be many printings of Remus Lupin’s definitive treatise on fighting the dark arts.”

            “You have a great deal of confidence that I’ll finish it.”

            “Don’t you?”

            “I’ve never written a book before.”

            “You’ve never done a lot of things before. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t.”

            I fold my arms on the table, inhaling the familiar scents. The waitresses even wear the same red smocks from when we were young men. I remember Sirius going home with one or two of them over the years, but the same could be said for a lot of the places we frequented.

            “To be honest, I feel like I’m a bit stuck on this chapter.”

            “What’s it about?”

            “Inferi.”

            “Fuck off,” Sirius says emphatically. He shakes his head with a shudder. “I remember fighting those bloody things. I never want to think of them again. But yeah, it’s good you’re writing about them. Better to have the know-how to put them down than not.”

            “There’s just not a lot of contemporary information about them. It’s all centuries old and literally falling apart at the seams. It’s not like many people from the war years have written biographies that I can draw from. I need source materials that aren’t written in Middle English.”

            Sirius fixes me with a look. “Don’t start this again.”

            I wait a few seconds. I know what he’ll say, but it just makes the most sense. “If I interviewed even former Death Eaters—”

            Sirius turns to face me, leaning forward to look me square in the eyes. “The day I hear that you’ve put in a request to go to Azkaban to interview Death Eaters, I will confound you and leave you in a cupboard until you’ve come to your senses.”

            “Sirius, we have this incredible resource that no one will touch—”

            “Yes, because they’re in fucking Azkaban—”

            “But does it not make sense to you, in studying the dark arts, that we should talk to people who’ve actually employed them?”

            “I don’t care about sense. You’re not going to Azkaban.”

            “You don’t dictate my actions—”

            “You promised me, Remus.” Sirius stares at me, and there’s a rawness to his eyes. “You _promised_ me.”

            I did. The first time I suggested going to Azkaban to interview the prisoners, Sirius nearly lost his mind. I hadn’t seen him that upset since…I’m not sure. Maybe just after Peter escaped, after he’d been exposed. He made me promise him something then as well.

            This time, it was to never go to Azkaban. It’s not as if I could fault him for it.

            Lifting my hands, I say, “All right.”

            Sirius sits back, the fright draining from him. I don’t like to see him like this. It’s rare. More and more so the further away we get from those years. It’s just not what I think of when I think of him. Sirius Black isn’t supposed to be afraid of things. That’s not the picture of him that I have in my mind.

            That’s silly, though. People never really fit your memories. If they did, the world would be a very boring place.

            “Any suggestions on getting past this block on the Inferi chapter?” I ask.

            Sirius shakes his head, still a touch unsettled. “I don’t know anyone who was ever killed by Inferi. Not sure if I know anyone who knows anyone.”

            That wasn’t the question I asked, but he does get out of sorts when we come near the subject of Azkaban at all. “Maybe I’ll leave it be awhile. Go back to curses.”

            “Now curses—that I can help with.”

            “Don’t I know it.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means you’ve never been afraid of curses, even when we were children.”

            “Oh it was…” Sirius catches my eye, then admits, “Maybe I wasn’t the best behaved child.”

            “Sirius—you’ve never been the best behaved anything.”

            He grins at me.

 

“I don’t know if I should have a chapter on lesser curses.” I uncross and recross my legs at the knee, having a sip of my coffee. I know, I know, a proper Englishman is supposed to drink tea, but I’ve never been able to stand the stuff. At this age, though, if I can’t just have what I want without pretending, what’s the point? “It seems a bit silly to be going on about _Avada Kedavra_ and then segue into the Floating Eye Curse.”

            A stick drops on the bench beside me. I look over. A massive black dog is sitting on his hind legs, panting and staring at me.

            “Seriously?” He barks once, and I sigh, trying not to smile. Picking up the stick, I fling it across the park. Sirius goes bounding after it as I call, “Fetch, you idiot.”

            If we’re walking to Harry’s, we’ll stop at the dog park so Sirius can run around awhile with the other dogs. He’s the largest one, a huge black beast amongst poodles and terriers. I think he prefers it that way. Sirius has needed to stand out our whole lives.

            Sirius returns at practically a gallop, stick clenched between his teeth, wagging his tail. He drops the slobbery stick on the bench again.

            “I’m wondering if I should simply add an appendix,” I continue. “A list of the known curses and a quick description of their characteristics and how to fight them. That would be a good resource without stopping the flow of the book to talk about how Gormlaith Gaunt’s Curse can pull the toupee off someone’s head.”

            Sirius barks, shuffling forward a few steps. Tail swinging to and fro, he looks expectantly at the stick.

            “I’ll throw it if you tell me what you think. Appendix? One for yes, two for no.”

            Sirius barks once.

            “Thank you. I’m glad we could have this scintillating discussion about my work.” I fling the stick as hard as I can, and Sirius runs away cheerfully.

            We’re preposterous, the both of us. Two grown men in a park on a weekday afternoon, one of them a dog, playing fetch. After everything, though, could we be blamed for having some time to be absurd?

            I drink some more coffee. I slept so late that I wasn’t able to get any work done this morning. I’ll have to work after I get back to mine tonight. Harry and Ginny’s first, though. He’ll be home from work soon. She’s back in the country. It will be good to see their faces.

            _Lycacomia_.

            I’m not sure why the word hit me so suddenly. I falter, looking around the park at all the dogs running about. The children with their parents, the littlest ones, not quite ready for school yet. The barking is a bit…it makes me rather nervous. There is a tingle, all up the sides of my jaw.

            The dogs are surrounding the children. They’re just dogs. They won’t hurt anyone. Only they’re all intermingling, and I know the children are screaming with laughter, but they’re still screaming—

            Something nudges my leg, and I nearly shout. Sirius is sitting on the ground, looking up at me quizzically. I don’t know how he snuck up on me. His dog form is large as a bloody house.

            Swallowing, I stand up. “Let’s be moving on, shall we? It wouldn’t hurt to be early.” I walk around the bench, back to the street, and a moment later, Sirius bounds over to my side. He brushes against my legs, and I feel like I have a guard dog.

            It’s reassuring.

           

The door opens, and Sirius and Harry are immediately hugging one another, slapping one each other on the back like it’s been months, even though we only saw them last week.

            “Hello!” Harry says. They each take one another by the shoulders and step back, Harry inspecting Sirius and Sirius inspecting Harry.

            “Hello as well!”

            Harry is dressed down in jeans and a jumper, with the same round, black rim glasses he’s worn since he was a child. He still hasn’t been able to tame his hair. He looks so much like his father that it absolutely takes my breath away.

            Sirius squeezes Harry’s upper arms and says, “What’s this? Have you been lifting bricks?”

            “Near as. We’re doing a challenge at work.” Harry reaches out for me. “Remus, hello.”

            I embrace him, giving him a gentle pat. I can’t help myself. He might be a solid, legendary Auror, but in my mind there will always be that image of an underfed child, too small for his robes. “Hello, Harry.”

            Harry steps back to let us in. “Well, come on. Dinner’s almost ready. Gin! I found two old men on our front step!”

            From the kitchen, Ginny calls, “Give them a sickle and tell them to piss off!”

            Sirius snorts, shucking out of his jacket and throwing it at the closet, where it affixes itself to a hanger. “She’s in regular form.”

            “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harry claps his hands together and says, “Come in, come in. Do you want a drink?”

            “Yes,” Sirius says.

            “A small one,” I say.

            Harry says, “You know your way around. I’ll be back.”

            As he leaves, movement catches my eye. The picture closest to the doorway. James and Lily are waving at me. I stop a moment, studying them. James wraps an arm around Lily’s back and beams at us.

            I startle when Sirius says, “Don’t just stand there, Moony. People will think you’ve lost your mind.”

            “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I say, following him.

 

If there were ever a house that screamed ‘a witch and wizard live here,’ it would be Harry and Ginny’s. It’s a bit dusty and every nook and cranny is packed with some magical thing. Neither of them are very neat, and neither of them care about putting on a performance for others when it comes to their house. The walls are old brown wallpaper, and I can see so many things from James and Lily’s old place in Godric’s Hollow. I’d be willing to wager the other half is hand-me-downs from the Burrow.

            It’s a warm, happy home, and it’s good to be here. It’s good to sit across from Harry, the man who none of us thought would live this long. It’s good to sit here with Ginny, who’s everything we could have hoped for.

            It’s good. It is.

            They clearly have something they want to tell us. They keep glancing at each other, then us, then going back to their food, with little conspiratorial smiles. Sirius seems oblivious. He always is if you put food in front of him. He’s thin, but not so much as when he first came back to us. Still, though, he’s not broken himself from the habit of blocking most things out when there’s a meal to be had.

            “Glad to be back?” I ask Ginny.

            She nods, with a sweet smile that she gets from her father. “I don’t mind the travelling, but it’s good to come home again.” She reaches over, squeezing Harry’s hand.

            “She’ll be MVP again,” Harry says.

            “I will not.”

            “Maybe not.”

            At that, Sirius lifts his head. “What? What do you mean? She’ll be MVP every single year that she plays. Ginny Weasley, greatest Seeker that ever played the game. Harry, be more supportive of your wife.”

            Harry and Ginny look at one another again, and I know what they’re going to say.

            Something passes between them, and Ginny says, “Well—Sirius, I might not be this year. I won’t be playing through the end of the season.”

            Pausing, Sirius puts his fork down. He’s going cautious. If he were a dog in this moment, his hackles would be rising. “Is everything all right?”

            Harry threads his fingers through Ginny’s, and Ginny says, “I’m pregnant.”

            And I’m happy for them. I’m almost immediately happy. For a second, though—

            For a second—

            Sirius nearly knocks his chair over, and joy floods through me at their news. “Harry!” Sirius cries out. “Ginny!” They’re getting up, laughing, and he’s thrown his arms around the both of them. “Congratulations! Merlin’s beard, what—this is splendid, congratulations—”

            I stand as well. I look at the three of them hugging—Harry Potter and his red haired wife, Sirius the most enthusiastic of them all—and it’s hard not to see the moment James and Lily told us they were going to have a baby. I did the same thing then as I did now. Hung back until I was welcomed in.

            Harry sees me standing there, and opens his arm. “Come here, Remus. You as well.”

            With a smile, I go around the table and join the huddle. “Congratulations to you both.”

            Sirius still has his hands on both of them. He looks so happy that his face might split from smiling. “And everything is well? Are you nervous? You shouldn’t be nervous, you’ll be both be absolutely brilliant at this.”

            “Of course we’re nervous,” Ginny says.

            “Terrified,” Harry says. “But we thought—” He looks again to Ginny and she nods. Harry turns to Sirius. “If it’s a girl, we want to name her Lily. If it’s a boy, we thought—James Sirius Potter has quite a ring to it.”

            Sirius goes still.

            He tries a few times to speak, before collecting himself. “That’s…that would be…quite the honour. I don’t really know what to say to that.” He bites into his lip, looking down.

            Ginny reaches over, wrapping her fingers around my wrist. “If we have another boy, we thought Albus Remus would do nicely.”

            I smile, and say, “Ginevra Potter, if it’s your intention to make me weep, you’re coming very close.”

            Sirius suddenly pulls Harry into a hug. He doesn’t say anything, just puts his arms around him and closes his eyes. Harry smiles a bit and rubs a hand over his back.

            I watch Sirius. He keeps his eyes closed, and he looks as content as I’ve ever seen him.

           

We’re leaving for the night, saying our goodbyes, taking far too long to do it. Ginny kisses us both on our cheeks, and Sirius hugs them both three or four times. Finally, I have to take him by the back of his jacket and drag him away. “Let them get some sleep, Sirius,” I say, exasperated. “They’ll need it.”

            “Yes, yes.” Sirius bounds down the steps, waving happily. “Congratulations again! Best news I could have ever heard!”

            “Get home safe,” Harry says, arm looped over Ginny’s shoulders.

            I start to say that we will, but I hear Sirius transforming. He’s turned into his dog form, running into the street to howl. Harry and Ginny start laughing, and I put a hand to my face. “Oh, for pity’s sake—”

            “Leave him be, Remus,” Harry says. “Make sure he doesn’t chase after any cars.”

            “My great responsibility in life,” I respond. Lifting a hand, I walk towards the street.

            I’m almost there when Ginny says, “Remus.”

            I turn back, raising my brows. She’s standing alone, Harry disappearing inside behind her. For a moment, I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu so strong that I want to brace myself against something.

            “I always thought you’d make an excellent father,” Ginny says.

            I don’t know how to respond to that. I’ve never considered having children. Not like this. Not how I am. It doesn’t even have to do with the fact that I’ve never fancied women all that much.

            But like this…the animal inside…no. Never.

            She lifts a hand, not leaving the doorway.

            “Goodnight, Ginny,” I say quietly, then follow Sirius down the street, where he’s streaking after a cat.

 

Sirius says, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

            I could deny it, but why? It’s a good night. It’s been a happy night. “I’m just thinking that you look about twenty years old right now.”

            “I feel it. I feel it, right here,” Sirius replies, tapping over his heart. He puts his arms over his head, inhaling the night air. “I’ve wanted them to have children for so long. I started to be afraid they wouldn’t.”

            “That fear appears to be unfounded. They already know what they want to name their second son.”

            “James Sirius. The bastard, it’s like he wanted me to sob my eyes out in front of him.”

            “It’s very sweet of them.”

            “Albus Remus—that’s a good name too.” Sirius swings his arms down, spinning as we walk down the middle of the empty street. “Think of it, Remus—our names, part of the Potter dynasty.”

            “Is that what worried you? That the name wouldn’t be carried on?”

            “I can’t say it didn’t concern me. I never gave a shit about the Black family name. There are so many branches off that rotten tree there’s no getting rid of the name. But Potter—James never had siblings. No cousins. If Harry doesn’t have children, they would all just—disappear. Can’t have that. We cannot have that.”

            “What about Lupin?”

            “What about it?”

            “What about my name disappearing?”

            Sirius rolls his eyes. “You never wanted children.”

            “No,” I admit. “I wonder sometimes…”

            Sirius waits a few seconds before prompting, “You wonder what?”

            “Oh, I don’t know, Sirius. Maybe it was something that bothered my parents before they died. Maybe my father worried about his name disappearing. I don’t know if he ever thought about his legacy. We never discussed it much.”

            “He had you. That’s a legacy for the ages.”

            “You know—”

            “I’m being serious. I swear, Moony, at some point in your life, you’ll learn to recognize a compliment when it’s meant.” I blush. I’m grateful for the dark, for the presence of only a few street lamps along the way. Sirius says, “Besides, your parents and names—” He gives me a meaningful look.

            “They were rather too prescient with that, weren’t they.”

            “Wolf, Wolf,” Sirius murmurs, and I could kiss him.

            We reach the juncture where we usually part. Halfway to my flat, halfway to his house.

            Sirius turns to me with a smile. “Another good day. You’re not going to stay up half the night writing about curses, are you?”

            “I might throw myself at the Inferi a little longer before giving up.”

            He raises his eyes to the sky, before opening his arms. “Happy days, Moony.”

            I rest my head on his shoulder, letting myself relax a moment. We fit together. Two thin, middle aged men who know one another too well. I allow myself a quick squeeze, then step back from him.

            “Stop chasing cats,” I say, heading towards mine. “Someday you’ll actually catch one and regret it.”

            “Oh, they love it. Remus?”

            I stop, looking back.

            Sirius gazes at me a moment, then says, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

            “Of course.”

            He smiles and walks away.

            I stay where I am, watching him go. I know something isn’t right. I’m a clever man, and even if it’s only nibbling at the edges of my consciousness, I’m aware of it.

            But I’m with him. Sirius Black, love of my life, who has never been mine, will never be mine. That means things are right.

            So I turn my back and head towards home.


	3. 11

When I was eleven, I went to King’s Cross with all the other students travelling to Hogwarts.

            It was overwhelming. Ever since I was five, I had been kept away from other children. Away from other people, to be honest. My parents and I lived in a small country home that could only be reached by apparating or driving several hours.

            This, though—this was chaos.

            I hung close to my parents. I was behind all these other children in social interactions and I knew it. I watched children and teenagers who had obviously known one another for years joyfully reconnecting, calling one another’s names, eagerly recounting the details of their summers.

            We stayed away from everyone. I could almost feel my parents’ fear rolling off them. Their worry. As much as I knew they fretted, and as much as I had my own concerns, I was desperate to go to Hogwarts.

            Father shrunk my luggage, then slipped it into my pocket, and I felt a sick swoop to my stomach. This was it. I was going. I was finally going. He wiped his scarred hands of some dust, then looked down at me.

            He took me by the shoulders and said, “You’ll be fine, Remus. Everything will be fine.” 

            I nodded.

            “Everything will be as we discussed. Remember, do as Dumbledore tells you.”

            “Yes, Father.”

            “If you need anything, use one of the school owls.” The train whistle sounded, and we both flinched. His grip on me tightened a moment, then he released me. “All right, say goodbye to your mother.”

            I turned to her. My heart was beating powerfully. I lived a life of control. My parents made sure that my surroundings were calm. Never unduly provoking me. This was anything but calm.

            My mother and I gazed at one another. She had been against this. I’d heard her and Father arguing at night, quiet as they could be, hissed things that I could only pick the occasional word from. The word it was never difficult to hear her say was _dangerous_.

            Mother inhaled. Then she reached up, pushing her hair back from the right side of her face, the side that was hidden from the others by the train. I swallowed, not sure whether to look or not. Mother always hid the right side of her face as much as she could. Only now I could see where her ear was missing. The pink, bumpy scars of claw marks that nearly went down her throat.

            “I know that you know this,” she said softly, words for me and no one else. “You’re a very clever boy, and we’re very proud of you. You’re going to do well at school, and I hope you’re happy there. But Remus, you can’t forget, not for a second—you are not like everyone else. It might be tempting to ignore that, when you’re surrounded by boys and girls who aren’t like this. But you can never, ever forget—if you don’t do as you’re told, someone could be hurt. Not only them, but you. We almost lost you once.” She looked at me with haunted eyes. “We couldn’t bear to go through that again.”

            I was eleven, but I recognized that if they did lose me, it might be a relief. Not in a way they could admit. I was very aware, though, of how my parents had suffered those past six years.

            “I’ll follow the rules,” I promised her. “I’ll be okay.”

            I could see that she wanted to say more, but the train whistle went off again. Mother glanced around, then gave me a weak smile. “Come here.”

            She put her arms around me, careful with me as ever. My father was never very physically affectionate, and my mother…well, my mother had been through a lot.

            I stepped away first, saying to them both, “Love you.”

            Mother was pulling her hair back over her shoulder before anyone could see. Father lifted a hand. “Go on now. Owl us as soon as you’re able.”

            I nodded, then scampered up the steps.

            I didn’t even take note of my surroundings. I immediately went into the cabin to my right and went to the window. Father had his hand to Mother’s back. They met my eyes and Mother put up a hand, giving me a little wave. I hung there, waving back.

            Mother looked like there were a million things she wanted to say. She stared at me, then gave me the biggest smile she could. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed.

            That was when I wanted to cry. I never cried when it wasn’t a full moon, but seeing my parents, taking this incredible risk with me—I wanted to run back to them. I wanted to hide with them in whatever distant place we could find for a few months before people started asking questions. I’d never been away from them before. I had no idea if I could take care of myself—in fact, I was fairly certain I might not be able to.

            Before I could unstick myself, the train jolted under my feet, and we began to inch forward.

            I was leaving. After everything, I was really, truly going to Hogwarts.

            I raised my hand, giving one more quick wave to my frightened parents, left alone on the platform, and then the train chugged onwards, taking me away from them.  

            I was on my own. I’d thought of myself as being alone ever since I could remember, but this time it was the truth. It was only me.

            Turning around, I realized that wasn’t exactly the case.

            There was a boy sprawled out in the corner by the door. He was watching me with lazy interest. He had wavy dark hair pushed off his forehead in a careless way I could have never achieved. His robes were brand new, spotless and nearly shining.

            Feeling my cheeks go pink, I quietly took a seat next to the window as the train left the station fully. I folded my hands into my lap, on the robes that my mother had sewn by hand.

            “I don’t know you,” the boy said.

            I glanced at him, wondering what he meant by that. No, of course he didn’t know me. Who here knew me? “No,” I said cautiously.

            “So your parents must be Muggles. I’m not supposed to speak to people whose parents were Muggles.”

            I gave it a moment, then shrugged. “So don’t speak to me.”

            The boy shrugged back. “Most of what my parents say is a load of rubbish. I’m Sirius Black. Who are you?”

            I hadn’t ever sat alone with a child my own age and just…talked. I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to go. “Remus Lupin.”

            Sirius Black furrowed his brows and said, “What, really?”

            “Why?”

            “Your parents have a thing about wolves or something?”

            My heart nearly stopped.

            I never had the problem with Sirius that a lot of his teachers did. They thought that because he could be lazy, because he only paid attention when he wanted to, that meant he wasn’t the brightest flower in the bouquet. From the beginning, though, I was made well aware that Sirius would always know more than was safe.

            Sirius went on, “Your name is basically Wolf Wolf.”

            “Remus and Romulus were raised by wolves. They weren’t wolves.”

            “Were they trying to be funny then?”

            I recognized that I had to be _very_ careful around him. Looking out the window, I said as casually as I could, “Sure, my parents have a thing about wolves.”

            “Is that what happened to your mother’s face?”

            It’s a funny feeling, to have the blood just drain from your skin. All these years later, I remember exactly how it felt to go so cold. To feel how resolute I become.

            Turning my head slowly, I said, “What did you just say?”

            The boy gazed right back at me, but I could see that he realized he might have overstepped. Still, he repeated, “Is that what happened to your mother’s face?”

            I gave him a good long stare, then said flatly, “If you _ever_ mention my mother again, they’ll have to search your stomach for the teeth I knock out of your face.”

            I’m not one to make threats, but there are some things I’ve never been able to stand for. Sirius Black seemed to understand that I meant what I said, but he wasn’t used to people challenging him. I could see that as well. “There’s no reason to be—”

            “You said your name was Black?”

            He paused. “Why?”

            “My father told me before I came here to look out for dark magic families. Lestrange. Malfoy.” Putting an emphasis on the word, I said, “ _Black_.” The boy flushed, and I felt glad for it. How dare he bring up my mother’s face? “At least I’ll be off in Ravenclaw like my dad, and you’ll be off in Slytherin.”

            I could see that he was set to burst, and I wondered if I was about to have my first real fight without claws.

            Except from the doorway, another boy said, “Has anyone taken these seats?”

            We both looked up. He was small for his age and wiry, with glasses, and hair that looked like it had never met a comb in its life it hadn’t devoured. There were a few other boys with him, but he was clearly the ringmaster.

            I stood up. “They’re all available except that one,” I said, nodding towards my new enemy as I strode out of the the cabin and into the hallway.

            As I went, I passed two other children my age, a red headed girl and a dark haired boy. They looked like they were about to follow the boys into the cabin.

            “Careful,” I said. “That one was reserved for prats.”

            I found myself a seat with some very friendly sixth year Hufflepuffs, and quietly stewed over the boy who I now hated.

 

I went into the Sorting Ceremony absolutely convinced that I would be sorted into Ravenclaw. Of course I would be. My father was a Ravenclaw. And maybe he didn’t have a steady job at the moment, but that was because of me, and maybe now that I was gone, he could get something stable. He used to be a rising employee at the Ministry until he had the misfortune of crossing Fenrir Greyback. Both he and my mother had taught me as much as they could, and I knew I was a good student. I was at Hogwarts to learn. I was there to soak in every single thing that I could.

            So naturally, I would be sorted into Ravenclaw.

            When Sirius Black was sorted into Gryffindor, I started to have my first major concerns.

            The two other students who had been sorted so far had gotten thunderous applause from their respective houses. When Sirius was announced for Gryffindor, there had been three or four surprised claps. He had wandered over to the table trying to look cheeky about it, but I could tell he was rattled.

            From the table closest to us, I heard an older student say, “You must be joking. The rest of that whole evil family’s been sorted into Slytherin since the start of time. Has there ever been a Black anywhere else?”

            Another student muttered, “Best check the stables. The pigs must be flying.”

            I nervously awaited my name being called. Of all the trials I knew I would face at Hogwarts, this would probably be among the most difficult. For the first time in my life, I would have to stand in front of a crowd of hundreds. And they would all be _looking_ at me.

            Doubts crept in. What if I was sorted into Slytherin? Maybe the hat had gone barmy and was making mistakes this year.

            When my name was called, I thought that I might throw up. Instead, I walked up to the woman with long, dark, plaited hair. She looked very stern, even for someone who didn’t appear that much older than my mother. As I approached her, though, I saw her give me the smallest of smiles.

            Swallowing, I turned and let her set the Sorting Hat upon my head.

            Almost immediately, I heard it murmuring. ‘ _Hmm. The werewolf.’_

 _Not Slytherin_ , I pleaded. _I’m not a dark creature. I’m not. Please don’t put me there. I’m not evil, I can’t help it, please don’t, please don’t_ —

            ‘ _Remus Lupin, I hear those words from three quarters of the students every year. Well, not that they are not evil. I hear,_ Not Slytherin _. No, I do not think you would do well in Slytherin. It is for those willing to put ambition beyond all else. Your heart will always outweigh your ambitions. Yes—I know where you would be a good influence._ ’

            Then the hat roared out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

            The hat was lifted off my head as one of the tables broke into applause, half of them getting up, as they had for all the others placed in their house, save the one boy. I looked at them, the people who would be part of my new home, then looked back.

            Dumbledore winked at me.

            Dazed, I walked down the steps and to the Gryffindor table. Older students were clapping me on the arm as I went, welcoming me, telling me ‘well done’ though I hadn’t exactly done anything.

            I went to the first empty chair. I was separated from Sirius Black by the red haired girl I had passed on the train. She smiled at me as I sat down, leaning over to say, “You were right. That cabin _was_ reserved for prats.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Lily.”

            She was the first person my age to ever offer me her hand. I shook it, saying with a grin, “I’m Remus.”

            She looked over at Sirius, who was viewing us both sourly. “What?” she said. “We’re part of the Anti-Prat Brigade.”

            He turned back to the front with a sneer, and I made myself a silent promise to love Lily, the girl with the red hair, until the day I died.

 

I was the last to go up to the dorms.

            The Gryffindor prefect had observed quite loudly, “Enjoy the space, gentleman. Not many boys in Gryffindor this year.”

            The girls had been quite pleased about that, but I understood immediately what it meant for me.

            I prevaricated until I could no longer, waiting around at the bottom of the stairs. When it looked like one of the prefects was going to come over and ask me what was wrong, I squared my shoulders and walked up to the only boy’s room for first years.

            When I stepped into the doorway, my fears were confirmed. The room was beautiful, much nicer than any I had ever lived in, decorated in red and gold, but there were four beds. I had already been afraid of living in the same room as other people. But there was my trunk, at the end of the bed closest to the window, enlargened to its usual size.

            On the bed next to mine sat Sirius Black, glaring at me.

            Before either of us could say or do anything, the boy with the wild hair walked over to me with a wide grin. “Hello!” He looked me over, then put out his hand. He was a head shorter than me, but clearly not afraid to take charge. “I’m James.”

            I gave his hand a shake—his grip was too tight, like he was trying to make up for his height—and said, “I’m Remus.”

            “Remus! Well, this is Peter—” He stepped out of the way, so I could see the boy sitting on the bed in the corner. He was pudgy and had blondish brownish hair. He gave me a shy, small wave, his other hand petting a large silver cat. James thumbed over to the other bed. “And that’s Sirius.”

            “Nice to meet you, Peter,” I said.

            He started to say, “You as well—”

            Sirius interrupted, “I thought you were supposed to be in Ravenclaw.”

            Returning his glare, I said, “I thought you were supposed to be in Slytherin.”

            Again, before we could get into it, James put up his hands. “All right! This is stupid and we’re not going to have it. I know you two have already decided to hate each other, but that’s not going to work. We’re outnumbered three to one—by _girls_. We have to be a team. So the two of you, make up.”

            Sirius looked flabbergasted. I wondered if anyone had ever made him apologize before. “Who died and made you Merlin?”

            Rolling his eyes, James said, “How can you two hate each other already? What happened?”

            Crossing my arms, I said, “He doesn’t like anyone who isn’t pureblood.”

            James turned to Sirius. “I’m pure blood and I think people who hate Muggles are idiots. Does that mean you don’t like me? You’re just going to be friends with Peter for the next seven years?”

            Sirius exclaimed, “I never said I don’t like—I just haven’t been around half bloods before or—Muggle borns.”

            “What word were you about to say?” I snapped. His face twitched, and I could tell it had been on the tip of his tongue.

            “Do you mind that he’s half blood?” James asked.

            “ _No_ ,” Sirius said.

            “There we go! Is that it?”

            The room fell silent. James looked back and forth. From my peripheral vision, I could see Peter looking on, probably wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

            “Was there anything else?” James prompted.

            I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. I had to live with these people for seven years. I was used to keeping my own counsel, but I recognized that I had a long road ahead of me if I wasn’t willing to give anything away.

            Gazing at the ground, I murmured, “My mother has a scar. All across the side of her head. He tried to make a joke of it.”

            James went still. He lifted his head and looked directly at Sirius. Glancing over, I saw Sirius turn his eyes away, whispering defensively, “What.”

            “You got on him about his mum’s scar?” James demanded.

            “I only—”

            “If it was my mum and you said anything to me, I would have thrown you out the window. Tell him you’re sorry.”

            Sirius pointed at me and yelped, “He said my family used dark magic!”

            Tossing up his hands, James said in exasperation, “I’d just met you and you told me your family uses dark magic! Tell him you’re sorry, Sirius.”

            Jaw dangling, Sirius stared at him in disbelief. Finally he said, almost angrily, “Sorry.”

            “Good.” James glanced at him, a bit dubious, then put a hand to my back and pushed me towards Peter’s bed. “Come meet Willow! Sirius and I have owls, but Peter has a cat. Do you have an animal?”

            Before I could stop myself, I said, “I’m not allowed to have pets.” I could have throttled myself. Putting it that way was just asking for questions. I forestalled that by quickly sitting down on the bed and saying, “That’s a big cat. Is it a mouser?”

            “She’s right vicious,” Peter said proudly.

            I smiled, and cast Sirius a glance. He stayed on his bed, pretending to ignore us, pouting.

            _Seven years_ , I thought queasily, and petted Peter’s cat.

 

My first night away from my parents, I dreamed my usual dreams.

            They had sent me off with a huge bottle of Dreamless Sleep. I was tempted to take it that first night, but wasn’t sure how to do it in front of the other boys. Besides, I was exhausted. It had been a long day. It wasn’t all that difficult to fall asleep.

            I dreamed I was the wolf. Only I kept myself. I was stuck in the body of the wolf, but I couldn’t do anything to control it. It went where it wanted, did what it wanted, hurt who it wanted. All I could do was watch as it hated me all the while. Then Greyback was there. Him, and his claws.

            When it got particularly gruesome, I woke with a start. It was the middle of the night. I could tell by the way the light fell across the room. We were two and a half weeks away from a full moon. I always knew exactly how far we were from that terrible night.

            My heart pattered in my chest, and my hands were clutched in the blanket, but I hadn’t cried out. No one had thrown on the light, asking what was wrong. What was wrong with me.

            As I started calming down, eyes adjusting, I realized that I could hear soft sniffling. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I looked across the divide between my bed and Sirius’.

            He had his fists up in front of his mouth. The starlight reflected off his tears. He kept smearing his face against his pillow to rid himself of them.

            I said nothing. I didn’t move.

            He caught my eyes, and only curled his fists tighter against his face.

            I raised my head, looking to see if our roommates were awake. James was starfished across his bed, blankets half fallen to the floor. Peter was curled into a little ball, snoring. If anyone was going to do something, it would have to be me.

            Carefully, I lifted my sheets, and put my feet to the floor. I went to my trunk, opening it silently. Ruffling through my belongings, I came up with a folded handkerchief. I closed the trunk, wincing when it made a noise, then took the handkerchief to Sirius. Setting it down in front of him, I stood there a second, not sure what to do.

            After a second, I crouched down. Rubbing a hand over my shin, I whispered, “This is the first time I’ve ever been away from my parents.”

            For a few seconds, I wasn’t sure if he was going to reply. But then he lowered his hands a little. Sniffing, Sirius said, “My mum is pretty awful. But I kind of miss her…a little.” He let out a hiccup, then pressed his face against the pillow.

            James turned over, and I waited to see if he would wake up. When he didn’t, I turned back to Sirius. I had no idea what I was doing. The only person I’d ever seen cry was my mother, and any time I caught her at it, she’d say nothing was wrong and shoo me out of the room. And my father, that one time I’d rather forget.

            “My father says that first impressions don’t mean anything.” Uncomfortable, I just kept rubbing at my shin, where one of my running scars marked the skin. “James is right. We need to get along. I shouldn’t have said anything about your family. It was petty. I’m sorry.”

            Sirius reached over and took the handkerchief. He wiped his whole face with it, then crumpled it in his hand. “My mum says I speak before I think. I don’t know why I asked…that…about your mum. It was really stupid. Sorry.”

            I nodded. “We started off wrong. We should try again tomorrow. Fair?”

            He gave a little nod. Meeting my eyes, Sirius said, “Wolf Wolf is still a prat name, though.”

            I gave it a second, then said, “You’d know all about it. Prat.”

            He smiled a little. I crawled back into bed, pulling the blankets up over my shoulder. I watched as he played with the handkerchief. “Night,” Sirius whispered.

            “Goodnight,” I said, and closed my eyes.


	4. The Uncanny

“I can’t believe I’ve never asked,” Sirius says. “Will there be werewolves in your book?”

            I turn to give him a long look. “Why would there be?”

            He puts up his hands, clearing his throat and looking away.

            We’re in a park near his house. It’s a weekend and there are lots of people about. I see plenty of magical folk as well. They’re always easy to spot. If they’re not wearing robes, they’re doing their absolute best to put together Muggle clothes. There’s a middle aged man walking his dog, wearing jodhpurs and a fuzzy pink jumper. I’m fairly sure I recognize him from Diagon.

            It’s very green out, and sometimes we’ll come here for Sirius to run around. Not like the actual dog park. Dogs aren’t supposed to be off leash here, but I suggested putting a leash on him once, joking of course, and Sirius merely turned to me with a cocky smile and said, “Moony, I knew you were a pervert, but I didn’t peg you for that sort.”

            “People…might expect…”

            “When have you ever been concerned with what other people think?”

            “Do you really think that?”

            “Well—you care what your friends think of you. I meant the general masses, however.”

            “I think people would be interested if you wrote about it.”

            “I’m not interested, though.”

            “I’d read it.”

            “What? If I wrote, ‘I, Werewolf’, the biography of Remus John Lupin?”

            “You said yourself, it’s not like Death Eaters write autobiographies—”

            “What’s that to do with werewolves?” I say coldly.

            Sirius takes a moment, inhaling, before speaking again. This time he actually seems to pay attention to what he says. “I’m drawing a parallel, not saying they’re intertwined, Remus. For your research, you said that it makes things difficult because we don’t—in your words—have an honest reckoning of the time from all sides. You don’t think there’s someone out there, researching werewolves, who doesn’t think the same thing? The world doesn’t look too kindly on werewolves—Nimue’s tits, it’s not like I need to tell you that—but I imagine that has a lot to do with the fact that they only ever hear about the bad ones, and not the majority. The majority are so busy being ashamed that they never say anything. I think it would do a lot of good if you wrote your story down for people to read.”

            He has a valid argument. Still, I say, “I don’t want to write about being a werewolf. Enough people have me down as that and nothing else. I don’t need to play into it to satisfy anyone’s curiosity.”

            “If you don’t tell your story, people will think of you as that and nothing else.”

            “Then they’re fools. And I don’t need to appease fools.” He grimaces, clearly ready to argue about this. So I say, “Would you ever write about Azkaban?”

            Just the word sends a shiver down his spine. “Not for all the gold in Gringott’s,” Sirius replies grimly.

            “I’ve been my own prison for decades, Sirius. How I feel about that isn’t for people to paw over.”

            We sit quietly for a minute or two, watching the park goers. There’s a man setting up a kebab cart across the way. I’m fairly certain that the second Sirius catches wind of that, he’ll be off. After all this time, trying to get between him and food remains a losing proposition.

            Sirius says, “Do you think people would care? If I wrote about Azkaban?”

            To say I’m gobsmacked would be an understatement. The only times I’ve ever gotten more than a few words from him on the topic have been when he was about to kill someone or deep in his cups. I say honestly, “I think it would outsell all seven years of _The Standard Book of Spells_. If you weren’t already the richest man I know, you would be ten times over.”

            “You think that people would actually…care?”

            That’s a more difficult question. Crossing my legs at the knees, I hook my elbow over the back of the bench. “I think that people would have a macabre interest. After all, Azkaban isn’t something that’s discussed. The last book that I can think of anyone writing solely on the topic is from a century ago, and that was banned by the Ministry. It’s factored into biographies here and there, but only as chapters. Having someone write about twelve years there…I think there would be interest.”

            “You didn’t answer my question.”

            “People don’t care about either of us, Sirius. I’m not being cynical, I’m only saying what’s strictly true. The world at large sees us and sees a werewolf and the man who was in Azkaban for twelve years, who they all thought was a mass murderer. Intellectually, they might know you’re innocent, but that’s difficult to separate from twelve years of preconception. I think that if you wrote about it, reading it might make people understand you more. But the people who care about you are the same ones who’ve always cared about you.”

            “Except for when they thought I was a mass murderer.”

            I’m about to speak when I hear thunder off in the distance. I look back over my shoulder. The sky is getting black as pitch to the north. The other people in the park see that and obviously have second thoughts about their day out.

            When I turn back to Sirius, he’s gazing off towards the trees. His handsome face is drawn, and I see shadows there that aren’t always. Most days, he looks recovered, but others…     

            I give his shoulder a tap, and when he turns, I nod across the park. “Since you’re the rich one between us both, you get to pay for kebabs.”

            Sirius blinks, but then he smiles. “You never play fair, Moony. Bless your heart.” He stands up. “Extra meat, I presume?”

            “Since you’re paying, yes.”

            “One of these days you’ll remember you’re not skint.” Sirius takes off across the park, overdressed in his beautifully tailored navy robes and sparkling shoes.

            I watch him, then check to see what direction the storm is moving, if we need to leave. The wind is moving east, away from the city. Everyone can go on enjoying their day.

            It would do him good. To write about it. I remember the year he was stuck in Grimmauld Place. There were a lot of things eating at him that year, but the memories of Azkaban, those were the ones he tried to deny. He would complain about a lot of things, only that was the one he rarely spoke of. Every few weeks, those of us staying there would wake to hear him screaming. He hated when I knocked on the door— “Fuck off, Remus!” is about as polite as he got when turning me away—but I could never stop myself from checking.

            Writing is healthy. Every time I sit down to describe the horrors of dark magic, I feel a little more calm. I’ve spent half my life fighting dark magic. Like this, I get to compartmentalize and study it from a distance. It’s not a thing to keep me up at night. I’m writing myself a shield, one paragraph at a time.

            Of course, this all makes me an absolute hypocrite. I can’t say it would be good for Sirius to write about Azkaban without considering if it would be therapeutic to write about lycanthropy. The thought makes my skin crawl, and as a werewolf, I’ve actually felt my skin crawl across my bones on numerous occasions. My condition is a private thing, discussed only with those closest to me. The outside world does not understand, nor does it care to.

            _They certainly never will if you refuse to talk about it._

That’s logic talking, and despite what people may think about me, I am not an automaton sticking only to what makes the most sense. When it comes to this, I can’t think reasonably.

            I know that Sirius had ugly years. I know his twelve years in that place were hell on earth. But I have been this way since I was _five_. He will never understand that.

            It’s a bizarre thing to notice, but a familiar set of shoulders is walking away from me. I take a moment, unsure if I’ve lost my mind, then call, “Nymphadora?”

            She turns, and—

            I don’t feel well. I feel like…like the world’s dropping out from under me—

            She smiles widely. “Wotcher, Remus.”

            As she strides towards me, I stand automatically. That feeling—déjà vu? Panic?—is quickly slipping away. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t certain it was you.”

            Nymphadora immediately reaches out to embrace. For a moment, I feel unsteady, but then I wrap an arm around her. She’s much shorter than I am, wearing a dragon skin jacket that’s slippery beneath my hands.

            I’m relieved and regretful when she lets go, and I have no idea why. “What was it gave me away?” Nymphadora asks, flicking her blue hair away from her face.

            “Your shoulders.”

            She stares at me a minute then lets out a laugh. “My shoulders? Remus Lupin, have you gone around the bend?”

            “It’s entirely possible,” I say, gazing at her pretty face.

            She readjusts the strap of her bag, saying, “It’s been a dog’s age, hasn’t it? What trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

            “No trouble whatsoever.”

            “Now that doesn’t sound like you.”

            “I rather think you’re projecting.”

            “Projecting?” she exclaims, her hair flaring red. “I beg your pardon.”

            She grins, and I’m not sure what to say. I’m quite good with small talk. Even with people I can’t stand, I can carry on a conversation. Nymphadora and I are friends. Why am I so uncertain?

            “What have you been doing with yourself, Dora?” I ask quietly.

            “Me? Oh, I’m just having a day out. Work’s mad. Work is always mad. Alastair was suspended again. It was glorious. Not with him gone, I mean. Him getting suspended. I don’t know that the hole in the Minister’s wall will ever build itself over again.”

            “That certainly sounds like Alastair. With him gone, you must have the run of the department.”

            “Come off it. Still too young for that. Besides, I’m up to my snout in case files. Far too busy to bother myself with office politicking.”

            “Are you telling me Alastair engages in office politics?”

            “Well—not exactly. Instead of backstabbing his opponents, Mad Eye stabs them in the front. With an actual knife.”

            We look at one another and shout in unison, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

            The both of us laugh. I watch her brush blue fringe back from her violet eyes. I’m trying to recall the last time I saw Nymphadora. Awhile, at least. It feels like so long since I last saw her.

            She catches me looking and smiles crookedly. “Are you giving me the once over, Remus Lupin?”

            I bare my teeth at that. “You’re thirteen years younger than I am, last I remember.”

            “Oh, it’s not the years, it’s the—”

            “Nymphadora!” We look to Sirius as he joins us, a kebab in each hand. I immediately step back from Nymphadora. Merlin’s beard, I’m acting peculiar today. Sirius pushes one of the kebabs into my hand and puts an arm around Nymphadora. “One of my least evil cousins. Hello, love.”

            “Sirius,” Nymphadora says, running a hand down the back of his jacket. “What is this thing you’re wearing?”

            “I could say the same for you,” he replies, pushing her back to arm’s length. They both look over one another’s outfits. I simply raise my eyes to the sky. “What are you rolling your eyes at, Moony?”

            “Nothing whatsoever.”

            “He’s only jealous,” Nymphadora says. “He’s never looked this good in his life.”

            With a smile, I say, “I must defer to you both on that.”

            I stand back with my hands in my pockets and let them discuss their favourite places to buy clothes, the latest styles (she also agrees that the ‘70s are coming back, which causes Sirius to raise his brows at me smugly), the pros and cons of gordian buttoning. They might as well be speaking another language.

            I just…watch. Inside, there’s this thing. I can feel it just under my ribs. The longer I see them together, the worse it gets.

            Finally, Nymphadora says, “We should continue this another time. I need to get going, I’m meeting some friends.”

            “She’s abandoning us, Remus,” Sirius says mournfully.

            “It’s only because you’re old, darling.” Nymphadora gives him a kiss on the cheek, before turning to me. “Remus, it was lovely seeing—”

            She goes to kiss me, and I have to hold myself in place. Still, I go rigid.

            Nymphadora stops, surprised, then steps back. “Well. You two take care. I’ll see you both about, I reckon.”

            “You will,” Sirius says. He smiles at her, and steps back so that she can walk by.

            When she’s gone, Sirius gives me a look. Swallowing, I hold up my kebab. “Shall we walk and eat?”

 

I don’t think that he’s going to let it go, because I’ve known the man for decades. We’ve walked nearly a half hour before Sirius says, “You want to tell me why you acted as if my cousin was about to give you dragon pox?”

            “She startled me is all.”

            “By what? Saying goodbye? She was only trying to give you a peck on the cheek.” He reaches over, trying to pinch my face, and I brush him off. “All these years, you’re still afraid of girls.”

            Letting out a cough of a laugh, I reply, “Between you and I, Sirius, I’ve never been the one with an issue speaking to women.”

            Sirius almost hoots with mirth. “In what alternate reality are you speaking from?”

            “Until we were nearly out of school, you couldn’t speak to a girl you fancied without trying to trip her at the same time. I never had an issue treating the opposite sex like actual human beings.”

            “Oh, that was school. Not like James was much better. He was so dreadful with Lily until sixth year that I thought she might hex him. That is, more than she did.”

            “Do you remember the first time they duelled?”

            Sirius rubs his hands together. “You don’t get to complain about how much I reminisce if you wind me up like this.”

            “You? Dwell on the past? Perish the thought.”

            “The first meeting of the duelling club,” Sirius says, as though he’s telling this story to someone who wasn’t actually there to witness it. “Second year. James and I were set on showing one another a thing or two. But for some unknown reason, McGonagall thought that was a terrible idea and separated us. Can you imagine.”

            “Sirius, I was _there_ —”

            “So there’s poor James Potter, without a partner, because you had teamed with—” Sirius just makes a disgusted, growling noise in his throat. He won’t say Peter’s name. I might say it, but I’ll make that noise inside my head while I do so. “Only he started to get excited, because he thought he would be paired up with someone from Slytherin and really show them what the Gryffindors were made of. Except—again, the malicious Minerva McGonagall said, ‘James, Lily, pair up.’ Practically begging for the ceiling to be brought down upon all our heads. James might know every single schoolboy hex to have ever been crafted by young, clever minds, but Lily—smartest of our year by leaps and bounds. And they despised each other. Oh, they despised each other.”

            “Lily despised James,” I say affectionately, “but you have it wrong. James didn’t hate Lily.”

            “He did so. He told me as much.”

            “When we were twelve, he told me he thought Lily was the prettiest girl in school.”

            “He did not.”

            “He did, Sirius.”

            Sirius waves me off. “You’re making things up. Anyways—the great duel. That is, what was supposed to be the great duel. James told me that he was going to bat bogey her. They get into their stances, they lift their wands—and before James can even blink, Lily lets out an _Expelliarmus_ that shook the rafters and threw him across the room. He hit his head on a table and needed to be carried to the hospital.” Sirius tilts his head back, showing the sky his smile. “Lily Evans, bless her heart. I’ve never seen anyone _Expelliarmus_ someone so badly that they nearly went through a wall.”

            “And then?”

            “And then what?”

            “And then,” I continue, “you pulled your wand on her and bat bogeyed her yourself. Not exactly sporting, was it?”

            “Oh, well—we were children—”

            “Children can do fairly horrible things to each other. It doesn’t hurt anything besides your pride to say you’re sorry.” Sirius rolls his eyes and I say, “Except you’re not sorry that you hexed a twelve-year-old girl, future mother of your godchild, because you weren’t sorry then either.”

            “No. No, don’t put it like that. You make me sound a beast, don’t you.”

            Glancing at him, I snort. “Looking like a wounded dog won’t work with me. I’ve seen this act far too many times. You admitted it before, you were a terrible person as a teenager, and I wasn’t much better, because I enabled you. You always seemed so surprised whenever someone told you you’d done something wrong. Like the thought had never occurred to you before.”

            “I came from a family where morality wasn’t exactly neatly spelled out, Remus.”

            “And always with an excuse.”

            “I would make up for whatever I did.” I bark out a laugh, and Sirius says defensively, “When? When did I ever do something questionable and not make it right?”

            “There are too many times to count.”

            “Ha! That only means you can’t think of a single time, so you have to be general about it—”

            “End of fourth year.”

            “End of…what happened the end of—” I stop, looking at him, and Sirius pulls up short. He thinks about it, then cringes. “Right. That. I apologized to the right people, didn’t I?”

            For a moment, I simply blink at him. Then I walk away from him.

            Sirius catches up in seconds. “Oh, come on. It was over twenty years ago. You can’t honestly think I owed that big-beaked bat anything.”

            “This only proves my point.”

            “What _is_ your point? Besides reminding me of shit I did when we were kids?”

            “I don’t know that I have a point.”

            “Are you feeling all right? You’ve been acting strangely ever since the park. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you steered the conversation away from that.”

            Uncomfortable, I shrug. “It’s just a peculiar feeling, is all.”

            “What sort of peculiar feeling?”

            I’m not sure how I’m meant to explain it to him when I can barely sort it with myself. “Like déjà vu, only…more intense, and for things I’m certain have never happened.”

            “Oh, I know what that is.”

            Startled, I say, “You do?”

            “Absolutely. Classic insanity.”

            “You know,” I say as Sirius snickers. “If you don’t want to be helpful, you could always just not say anything at all.”

            “If we’re discussing my character, you know that’s something that will never happen. So is it like something seems familiar when you know it isn’t?”

            “Yes. Exactly like that. That’s what happened at the park. Something about Dora—”

            “Dora, is it?” Sirius says, arching a brow.

            “Nymphadora is a mouthful.”

            “I beg your pardon, you think of my cousin in terms of mouthfuls?”

            We look at one another, trying to keep straight faces. I break first. “Piss off, you middle aged deviant.”

            “I like that.”

            “Have you never felt like that though? A sense of…the uncanny?”

            “We’re wizards, Remus. We were raised to deal with the uncanny.” I sigh, and Sirius says, “You’re making a great deal of something out of nothing. You’re just up to your tits in the peculiar with all your research. I think it might be getting to your brain.”

            It isn’t that. I know it’s not that. But I can tell he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about. So instead of going on about it, I say, “You’re probably right. Too much time with the Boggarts.”

            “The world would run a lot smoother if you’d just presume I’m right from the start of a conversation.”

            “That’s a recipe for disaster.”

            “Haven’t been wrong yet,” Sirius says, and he doesn’t even try not to smile as he says it. I shake my head, and Sirius hits me lightly on the arm with his fist. “We turned out all right, yeah? Even if I was a bit of a sociopath in school.”

            “You certainly could have turned out worse.”

            “A ringing endorsement, that is.”

            I can’t help myself. I reach over, squeezing the back of his neck. Just for a moment, just to have touched him. Then my hands go back in my pockets, and I ask him how his repairs on the motorbike are going.


	5. 15

When I was fifteen, I was the happiest I had ever been.

            I loved Hogwarts in a way that the vast majority of witches and wizards do. It’s a singular place, a blessed place. It was possibility, in every nook, every cranny. We all look back on our years there, and regardless of whether our time there was good or bad, we recognize that there’s no other place like it on earth.

            I’d embraced the castle as my home, something that didn’t change even after I left. It was the only place I ever lived for long periods. I explored it relentlessly, marking down my observations for what would one day be a map. In the mornings, before anyone else woke, I would slip out and run the grounds. I was never one for athletics—James was the only one among us who ever seriously took to organized sport—but I loved to just run along the Black Lake, the outskirts of the forest. The rules had been relaxed for me in such a way that I could run as far as the shack without the alarms going off. I threw myself into Hogwarts in every way I could.

            The work was amazing. Most of the students would moan about it, but I devoured each lesson. Everything in those years was fascinating. My friends would whinge about homework, and I would have already finished the entire textbook for the year. I would have easily had the best grades of the class if Lily Evans wasn’t set on giving me a run for my money. It was never a competition between her and I, though. We liked one another too much for ill feelings.

            More than anything, though—more than having a home, more than feeling normal in ways I never thought I would—my greatest joy was my friends.

            We called ourselves a ridiculous name because we chose it when we were eleven and it sounded very dangerous. It came from a book Peter was reading. Peter read a lot of trash instead of his school books. He got Marauders from one on the wizard pirate Baldric Boldde, who once stole the North Sea. We thought it was a grand name.

            Despite the shaky beginning of our first day, we immediately melded into an indivisible unit. Being the only boys in a classroom full of girls can do that. I’ve never been afraid of girls, but my friends certainly were in those first few years, which expressed itself as disdain. Sirius and James had never been the odd ones out before, and even though Peter had, he was so eager for friends that he’d emulate anything they did. They seemed to understand that I had always been on the outside, and they claimed me as their comrade.

            James was fearless. He believed what he believed, and Merlin save you if you tried to sway him. He approached every situation with a smile, even if on occasion that smile was cruel. He loved you if he loved you and he hated you if he hated you, but there were lines not even he would cross. The first year he was a Seeker, he broke his arm three times and tried to argue Madam Pomfrey into putting a plaster cast on him so we could sign it. The first and only time I ever saw Minerva McGonagall laugh uncontrollably was because James Potter made her do it. In front of Sirius and Peter, he acted tough, like he never had a doubt, but when it was just the two of us and he knew he didn’t have anything to prove, James would tell me what he really thought. He was wonderful and terrible and became the very best of men.

            Sirius was the dark horse. He and James were thick as thieves, but when James had a smile, Sirius had a smirk. The only time Sirius ever really smiled was when he was alone with the Marauders. He approached every person outside our group like they were below him. Sometimes he was so Slytherin in his cunning that we were forced to tease him mercilessly for it, which irritated Sirius to no end. But there wasn’t a one of us who despised the dark arts more than Sirius. When he chose to care, he sometimes beat Lily and I in exams, but he rarely chose to care. In our second year, after the boys proposed that they become animagi, James pulled me aside later and murmured, “It was Sirius’ idea, mate. Don’t tell him I told you.” Sirius hid his heart from everyone but the people he loved, and we three were the only ones he loved.

            Peter was…I still find it difficult to talk about Peter. Because there was no way to know what he’d become. Once I discovered the truth, I wracked my brain for months, trying to wriggle out every single clue that I could. It was the same process I’d had years with when it came to Sirius, but I’m ashamed to say that it made more sense that Sirius would have turned to Voldemort. Peter was a sweet, blundering child. The only friends he had back home were all younger than him. He came from a pureblood family that held prejudices he never revealed to us. In school, he was…hopeless. Truly hopeless. I spent so many nights with Peter going over his homework. Even when I was tired, he would turn those blue eyes on me and plead, “Please, Remus?” He idolized James and Sirius. He would come back from summer wearing copies of robes that Sirius wore the year before, and he memorized every single Quidditch rule ever written to help James at matches. He was the first to laugh at jokes. He was the first to fall asleep and the last to wake every morning.

            We were a motley bunch, but we looked out on the world and decided it was ours.

            Those years were magic, in every conceivable way. Hogwarts, my friends, all of it. There is no way any other time of my life will be able to compare. Everything was a discovery, an exploration, a triumph.  It was the happiest time of my life.

            And then came the end of fourth year.

 

The room was as silent as it could be. There were all sorts of gadgets about that spinned and whirred, but they had mostly muted themselves. Even Fawkes was quiet, bobbing his head slowly up and down, gazing at me from his perch.

            Dumbledore sat at his desk and I sat across him. We had said very little since I came in. Madam Pomfrey had brought me there as soon as the transformation finished. I usually went to the hospital for a quick check up, but this time I had been taken directly to the headmaster’s office.

            I wanted to be sick. I was so shaken that I could only sit there, staring at the floor.

            I had almost…I’d almost…

            Finally, Dumbledore said, “I do not want to deny the gravity of the situation. We very nearly averted disaster last evening. But I cannot stress enough that you did nothing wrong.”

            I closed my eyes. I couldn’t stand to hear him say that. I was a monster.

            “You did as you were instructed, as you’ve done these past four years. I’ve been very proud of you, Remus—”

            It was too much. I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him to stop speaking—this was Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard to ever live. I should be ashamed to sit in the same room with him. A dark creature who couldn’t control himself.

            “Your friends performed a trick that could have had the direst of consequences, and they will be dealt with. Sometimes…the people we trust let us down. That is a difficult lesson to learn, and one I worry that you will take far too close to heart. Your friends—your Marauders…they behaved foolishly. But you shouldn’t allow this to force you back into solitude.”  

            “I shouldn’t be here,” I murmured.

            “Remus—”

            “I almost killed Severus. If he had gotten any further—”

            “But he didn’t. Cooler heads prevailed, and James stopped him. This is something to learn from, not to abandon everything over—”

            “If I killed him, they wouldn’t let you be headmaster anymore. It would be my fault—”

            “No—”

            “I shouldn’t be here, I’m a freak—”

            “Remus Lupin. Enough.” I pressed my mouth shut, my head filled with images of what would happen next. I would need to pack everything. I would leave Hogwarts, never to return. I would never see any of these people again. I would go where I couldn’t hurt anyone. Dumbledore curled his hand onto a fist atop his desk and said, “You will not leave here.”

            I started shaking my head.

            “You do no one any good by hiding yourself from the world. The world does not need your shame. It needs you, as you are. I do not regret your attendance at Hogwarts. It is dangerous for there to be one manner of person here and no other. I learn from you, as you learn from me. That is how to create change. We face hard times ahead, and I will need you here.”

            “What?”

            “I know Hogwarts seems safe. By extension, the world seems safe. But Voldemort—he is a very, very real threat, Remus. He gathers followers every day. He seduces those whom the magical community rejects, making them believe he needs them, when in truth he needs them only for as long as they’re of use to him.”

            It wasn’t difficult for me to make the leap, even at fifteen. “I will _never_ join Voldemort,” I hissed, anger unfurling through me.

            “I know that,” Dumbledore reassured. “But a great many people, a great many creatures, they believe he is the only choice, because _this_ is a choice unavailable to them. We need to prove to them otherwise.”

            “Then why…if you’re using me as an example…”

            “I would never ask you to do something you’re unwilling to do.”

            I gazed at him. “You need me to get through all seven years. To prove to everyone that it’s possible without causing a panic.”

            It took him a moment to reply. “I have a great many reasons for the choices I make.”

            It was too much. “I don’t want anyone to know. Ever.”

            “Remus—”

            “Severus is going to tell everyone—”

            “He is not. We’ve already spoken.”

            “I don’t want anyone to know. _Ever_.”

            He looked at me a long moment, mournful. Dumbledore finally nodded. “This is a conversation we should revisit at a later date. It’s been a terrible night for you.” His eyes flicked towards the door, and I understood with relief that I could leave. I quickly got to my feet and walked away. Of course, as soon as I reached for the door, he said, “Remus.” I tilted my head towards him without looking at his face. “You are not alone.”

            “May I be excused, sir?”

            He sighed, and as soon as he said, “Yes,” I was walking out of the office, down the stairs.

            Not alone—it was a horrible joke. I had spent the past few years fooling myself. Thinking I was part of something, that my friends understood me the way I did them. In the end, though, I was simply a tool to play the cruelest of japes. I could barely fathom what they had done.

            I hurt all over from the transformation, from a gash in my side that hadn’t been seen to. In that moment, I wanted to jab my fingers into the wound and make it worse. It was what I deserved. Stupid, foolish creature that I was.

            I came out into the hallway, turning for the hospital, and ran straight into Sirius.

            I looked at him for about two seconds, hair and robes rumpled like he hadn’t been to bed yet, before pivoting and striding off in the opposite direction.

            He caught up to me, saying, “Moony, we didn’t—”

            “Get away from me.”

            “Mean anything, it was just a laugh—“

            Glancing at him in disbelief, I replied, “A _laugh_? This seems funny to you?”

            “No, but—would you stop? It’s bloody difficult to keep up with you.”

            “I don’t want to talk to you.”

            “Where are you going?”

            “Wherever you’re not.”

            “Will you let me apologize?”

            At that, I did stop. “You? Apologize? Now there’s a laugh. You’ve never apologized for anything, and I don’t think you’re about to now.”

            Sirius sighed with frustration. He was trying to use those grey eyes of his on me, but I knew how he worked. “It was a joke. We didn’t think Snivellus would—”

            “His name is Severus and you almost killed him.”

            “Oh, you never would have done—”

            I put up my hands, about to lose my patience entirely. Before I could, I bit into my lip. I nearly drew blood, which I was all too familiar with.

            Sirius took it as an opportunity to keep talking, when he should have kept his mouth shut. “He’s the one who’s been nosing around all this time. Maybe if he’d kept that big beak to himself he wouldn’t have seen something he shouldn’t have.”

            “You told him how to get past the willow—”

            “He didn’t have to! He could have just left well enough alone, but he didn’t, and that’s on him.”

            “No,” I snapped. “It’s on you. This whole thing was your idea. I don’t even have to ask James, because I know he would have never done this. He went along because he thought it was funny, but he knew when to stop and you can’t even say you’re sorry properly.”

            “I _am_ sorry—”

            “For what?”

            At that, Sirius seemed taken aback. I had given him a lot of slack over the years. I knew he and James were bullies, and I hadn’t tried to stop them, and sometimes that made me disgusted with myself. But I needed them to be my friends. They were my first friends. For a boy who had been through far more than his share, that meant a great deal.

            “What are you sorry for?” I demanded.

            Shrugging, Sirius said, “You know—the whole bit—”

            “You’re not sorry for anything. The only thing you’re sorry for is someone telling you you’re wicked. You should be fucking expelled, and I hope you are. Not that it will make a bit of difference to me, because I’ll be gone.”

            At that, he went stock still. “What do you mean? They’re not—they can’t make you leave! It’s not your fault you’re a—”

            “Shh!” He looked like he was about to burst. I realized that I wasn’t going to shake him so easily. James might seem difficult to sway, but Sirius was a rock, and if he was convinced that we should have this out, then we would. Glancing about, I said in frustration, “Come on.”

            I turned and bounded up the stairs, leaping over the trick step without even thinking about it. I heard Sirius following me, so I didn’t bother to slow down. I swung open the portrait of the Lady in the Blue Dress, climbing into the shortcut to the third floor.

            “Remus,” Sirius said, closing the portrait after us.

            “Shut up until we get to the Room,” I replied.

            Once we were on the third floor, I walked straight up to what was usually a blank patch of wall. Only this time there was a door in it, made of metal. It looked like the door to a bank vault. I yanked it open, and nodded Sirius in. He passed me, then stopped a few steps inside.

            I pulled the door shut, hearing the locks clank shut. “Why does it look like this?” Sirius said, alarmed.

            The Room was a little smaller than our dorm room. Except the walls were all padded, blocking any sound and hopefully keeping injuries to a minimum. There was one light, high up. Far too high up to be destroyed if things went wrong.

            I stood in front of him and asked, “Why would you do this to me?”

            Uncomfortable, Sirius said, “We didn’t do this _to_ you—it was just a joke on Snape—”

            “It was a joke at my expense.”

            “No! I’d never do that. Remus, you’re my best friend—”

            I dug my nails into the palms of my hands. “ _No_. I’m not. James is your best friend. But you’re _my_ best friend, and I thought that meant enough to keep you from ever doing something like this to me, but you have, and how could you?”

            Sirius had paled. That was the moment he clearly understood that we were going to be telling some hard truths. And the truth was, I knew he liked James more than me. James was eager to jump into his schemes, quick to light and slow to calm. James was fun. I was clever, but reserved. I didn’t always say yes.

            Still, though, Sirius was my favourite. I couldn’t have said why. He could be vicious, but he was also hilarious, and bright, and he made me do things I would have never thought I was capable of. He was all the things I wasn’t, and I was drawn to him in a way that was different than any other relationship I ever had.

            “Moony—we weren’t trying to make fun of you.”

            “Do you think that’s what I mean? You don’t care if Severus got hurt, fine, that’s awful, but fine—only what about what that would have done to me? What if I’d killed him, Sirius? What if I’d done that? What do you think that would have done to me? That would have been on me the rest of my life. The werewolf who killed a student. That would be the only thing people ever thought about me until I died. Why don’t you understand that?”

            Sirius was silent and wide eyed.

            “You didn’t think, you never think, you just do whatever you want, and we all have to clean up your messes. Well, I am done cleaning up your messes.”

            “I didn’t—you wouldn’t have hurt him—”

            “Yes! I would have! When I’m like that—you don’t understand!”

            “You’re the most level headed bloke I’ve ever met! You’re a werewolf, but you’re not a monster! You wouldn’t have hurt him.”

            “You don’t know that—”

            “Of course I do, I know you—”

            “If I could do that to my mother, what do you think would stop me from hurting _him_?” I pointed out at the world beyond the Room. “Do you think I don’t understand that Severus isn’t worth the air he breathes? He’s a dark wizard. The second he graduates, he’ll join up with the Death Eaters. Mark my words. I don’t care what Lily says, he’s scum. And you think I could stop myself from hurting him? Merlin’s beard, Sirius—you’ve seen my mother’s _face_.”

            My voice cracked at the last bit, and I had to turn away from him. I covered my face with both hands, trying to take deep breaths. I wasn’t so far removed from the transformation that I couldn’t feel traces still in me. Sirius had picked the worst possible time to challenge me.

            Quietly, Sirius said, “Remus—you were little. You couldn’t help yourself.”

            Incredulous, I turned back to him. “I was _ten_.”

            Sirius’ mouth fell open. It took him a moment to recover. “I didn’t know that.”

            “No. You just assumed. You assume a lot of things. You and James and Peter—you think you can play around with putting on different shapes and it’s all a lot of fun, not that a single one of you has managed to change, like you promised me you would. But none of you know what it’s like. I’m an _animal_.”

            He stepped towards me, saying, “No, don’t say that—”

            I moved away from him. “Don’t touch me. You’re not my friend. You would have never done this to me if you were my friend. You’re just another Black, and the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

            The light in his eyes changed. “Don’t.”

            “Don’t what? The only reason you aren’t up to your eyeballs in the dark arts is because your parents already are, and you just want to do the opposite of whatever they do. If you didn’t hate your parents, you’d be the best of friends with Severus, off to kiss Voldemort’s arse and burn Hogwarts to the ground.”

            “I’m not like that.”

            “You nearly killed someone! You nearly made me a murderer! You should have never been in Gryffindor. I don’t know how you did it, but you tricked the Sorting Hat, and everyone knows it.”

            His cheeks were turning red. “That’s not true.”

            “It doesn’t matter. We’ll be gone soon anyways.”

            “No! They can’t make you leave—exams are only a few weeks away—”

            “No one is making me leave! I’m doing it so I don’t hurt anyone!”

            I thought he would tell me I was being silly. That I was overreacting. Instead, Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “You’re running away?”

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “That’s your answer? That beaky bastard knows what you are, so you’re just going to do a runner before everyone finds out?”

            “I’m taking responsibility for what I am—”

            “You’re being a coward, more like!”

            I lunged forward a step, roaring. Even with the Room as insulated as it was, I filled it with the sound of my animal rage. I felt my teeth ache, as they tried to transform into fangs, and I bared them at Sirius.

            He fell backwards in fear, dropping onto his rear end.

            I took control of myself, but only because the full moon had been down an hour. Any earlier and it could have gotten ugly.

            “Get away from me,” I said coldly. “And stay away from me. Or so help me, I will eat your lying face.”

            Sirius was breathing heavily, staring up at me. He sucked in a breath, then said, “You wouldn’t. You’d never hurt me—” 

            Giving up, I walked towards the door. He tried to reach out for me, but I snarled at him, and he snatched back his hand. I went through the door and slammed it after myself.

            I could feel my side bleeding.

 

I didn’t leave. I wanted to, but it was McGonagall who convinced me to stay. She sat me down and had a very blunt discussion about the reality of things. Unlike Dumbledore, she had no secret motivations, and unlike my so-called friends, she wasn’t trying to forestall awkward questions being asked. She asked me not to go because she cared about me. If it had been anyone else, I don’t know that I would have said yes.

            But things changed very abruptly. I was not speaking to Sirius, and barely speaking to James and Peter. I spent my every spare moment away from our room. I would stay in the library until it closed, and most nights I fell asleep in the Common Room. Our prefects gave up on trying to send me to my room. I sat by myself in classes or by one of the girls.

            James was the first to offer a real apology, the day after everything happened. He and Sirius had both pulled detention every single day for the rest of the school year, and James had been told he would not be Quidditch captain the next year, like everyone assumed. They got off light, and it was only because a greater punishment would have raised even more questions and risked exposing me. James came to me and said that they weren’t thinking, that he never meant to hurt me. I said that was fine, but I didn’t want to talk to him. He gave me space, but a week later he started trying to bring me back into the group, calling out, “Moony, join us for lunch?” “Moony, we’re off to see Hagrid, want to come?” “Want to have a look at that tunnel by the Astronomy Tower, Moony?” And I would reply with a, “No thanks,” and put my nose back into my books.

            From the corner of my eyes, I would find Sirius watching me during classes. Any time I caught him at it, I only felt annoyed and heartbroken. He was just feeling sorry for himself, I knew. Most nights when I did go up to our room, he wasn’t there either. I didn’t care where he went, so long as he wasn’t near me.

            I had gone from the happiest I had ever been to completely alone in the span of a single night.

 

It wasn’t only the Marauders I had issue with. There was another person who had been wrapped up in this disaster.

            After I finished my DADA exam, I walked to the courtyard. I knew Lily and Severus usually met there when they wanted to talk. Everyone knew. The school marvelled at the two of them, the friendship between these two who could not have been more different.

            I came up behind them, knowing that if I approached from the front, Severus would only give a start and take off. I had tried several times over the past three weeks to apologize, but he was having none of it. I understood, but I couldn’t leave it be. The other boys weren’t going to apologize to him, so I had to.

            Lily was the first to notice me. Her face quickly went stony, and my stomach lurched. Dumbledore told me he had sworn Severus to secrecy, but I was quite concerned he would tell Lily. She had been fairly chilly to me the last few weeks.

            “Severus,” she said.

            He looked back at me and flinched.

            Stopping, standing over them where they sat, I said to Severus, “May I speak to you a moment?”

            His lip curled. “No,” he said flatly. He stood up, his wrinkled robes dusty. “I have to go, Lily. This place has suddenly gone to the dogs.”

            He walked away, and I didn’t follow. Of all the people involved, Severus had stood to lose the most, namely his life. If he didn’t want to speak to me, I couldn’t blame him for that.

            Lily glared up at me. “What did you lot _do_ to him? I’ve never seen Severus like this.”

            I could barely register my relief that she clearly did not know what happened. I sat down beside her, tired, and rested my arms on my knees. “James and Sirius played an awful joke on him, and he thinks I knew about it.” Shaking my head, I said grimly, “They almost killed him, Lily.”

            She stared at me a moment. “Is that why you’re not speaking to them?”

            I didn’t reply, only gave a curt nod.

            “What was it? What did they do?”

            “I can’t talk about it. None of us are allowed to talk about it. I didn’t know what they were going to do, Lily. If he’ll listen to you, I wish you’d tell him. This whole thing…it was nearly as much at my expense as his. I know they can be…they’re awful. I just didn’t know they could be as awful as this.”

            “I believe you. I’ll tell Severus.”

            “He won’t believe you, but…I appreciate it.”

            We sat together a moment, watching students bounce out of exams, elated. We still had another week before the end of the year. It was the first time I was eager to leave Hogwarts for the summer. Two more exams—and one more full moon. The wolf would come through the night before I had to be on the train. The timing was abysmal.

            “Why are you friends with them?” Lily asked suddenly.

            I looked at her in surprise. If anyone would understand, I thought it would have been her.

            “They’re conceited and mean. You’re nothing like them. Why do you stick around them?”

            “Are all of Severus’ friends like you, Lily?”

            She pinkened.

            “You knew him before you came here. James and Peter and Sirius…they’re the first friends I ever had. I thought…anyways. It doesn’t matter.”

            “He’s not the way people think. Oh, I know that he’s a little too interested in the dark arts, but—when it’s just the two of us—he can be really nice, Remus.”

            “You trust him? You honestly think that if he didn’t have you to hang onto, he wouldn’t be a Death Eater at the first chance he got?”

            Frowning, Lily said, “No, he wouldn’t. I trust him. I trust him with my whole heart.”

            A month ago, I would have said the same thing about Sirius. “Be careful who you place your faith in, Lily,” I said, pushing myself up. “People will only ever let you down.”

            I’d barely gotten a few steps from her when she said, “Hey!” I turned back, and Lily walked up to me. Her brow was knotted with concern, her green eyes searching my face. “I don’t believe that. Have I ever let you down? Just because your mates are idiots doesn’t mean your other friends don’t have your back. I always have your back. Don’t you know that?”

            I shrugged, unable to meet her eyes.

            “Your silly Marauders are a menace, so of course they were going to do something stupid. James is a smug little bully, Sirius is more concerned with looking pretty than being a good person, and Peter—Peter just wants to be on the good side of the worst person he’s around so they don’t pick on him. But _I’m_ your friend too. I would listen if you wanted to tell me what was going on. I’d defend you if you needed defending. This school is filled with people who think you’re actually rather grand, Remus.”

            Blushing, I said, “Lily…”

            She reached out, giving my chest a gentle poke. “You’re my friend, Remus Lupin. So stop this nonsense. Now come down to the Black Lake with me so we can go over our Arithmancy notes.”

            I hesitated, but Lily had already come to my side, slipping her arm through mine. There was no telling her no.

            “Thank you, Lily,” I said quietly.

            “Any time,” she answered, and began grilling me on the finer details of the Chaldean method.

 

The night before the train was set to return to London, I made the trek to the shack.

            It was just beginning to be called the Shrieking Shack in those days. There was a rumor going around Hogsmeade that the place was haunted. It was only me, though. My body turning inside out and outside in, losing my mind once a month.

            The room felt like a prison. Standing there in the cold night, I wanted nothing more than to never see that room again. At Hogwarts, there was the illusion that I was like everyone else. But no one else had to come to a filthy, battered room in a hovel every month to become a monster. That was my lot and no one else’s.

            I could feel it coming. In the days leading up to the transformation, my skin would begin crawling. It was difficult to sleep, and I started craving the taste of something I knew I couldn’t have. There was no avoiding it. There was no stopping it. Now the night had arrived, and I was nauseated and bracing myself for the moon to shine through the window.

            I undressed, putting my clothes in a neat pile hidden in a cubby. Yet another indignity. I had to stand there, naked and alone, waiting for the moon to rise. I hooked my hands behind my neck and shut my eyes. My skin was burning. My heart was pounding.

            It never became easier. I had been doing this ten years, and every time, no matter how I told myself I could prepare, it was never enough.

            I tried to distract myself by thinking about the upcoming summer. Father and Mother had both held onto the same jobs since I went to Hogwarts. They had reached a point where they could take the summer off. We were going to Iceland. Father could indulge his Boggart obsession, and Mother would have plenty of barren landscapes to paint.

            There also aren’t many people that live in Iceland. Less opportunity for me to kill anyone.

            James had pulled me aside before I left for the shack. He had apologized again, only this time there was a desperation to him. “The Marauders doesn’t work without you, mate,” he said, pained. “None of this is the same. I know you’re angry, but over the summer—could you think about forgiving us?” He was so earnest, so sincere. I had never seen him like that.

            I told him I would think about it, but I knew that after months alone on a glacier, there would be very little I wouldn’t forgive.

            A cloud must have crossed in front of the moon, because I felt a spike all through my body. I shuddered, pulling at my hair. There were times that I would yank out clumps, and in the morning Madam Pomfrey would have to spell it to grow.

            I was standing there, prepared to surrender myself, when the worst possible scenario occurred.

            A noise coming down the tunnel.

            Shocked, I wasn’t able to react at first. But when I realized that someone was walking along the hallway, I panicked.

            “Go back!” I shouted. “It’s—it’s dangerous! Turn around!”

            What person could be mad enough to come through? This was a bad dream. After last month, this couldn’t be happening again.

            “I mean it! If you keep going, you’ll get hurt! Go back!”

            When it became apparent they weren’t going to turn around, I suddenly realized that I was naked in an empty room. As the door opened, I did the only thing I could think of and clapped my hands over my genitals, my very English shame of my body overcoming any concern I had for this interloper.

            The door to the tunnel swung open, and Sirius stepped into the room. We stared at each other, then he glanced around the room.

            “Well—this looks like a place to murder someone and get away with it,” he remarked.

            “What are you doing here?” I hissed. “You have to go back! It’s happening, you can’t—you can’t be here!”

            Sirius was dressed in slim fitting, black Muggle clothes. He tugged on his vest, and said, “We should clean the place up a bit, Moony. This is all—very depressing.”

            “Sirius! Listen to me! You have to—” A cramp tore through me, and I felt my organs threatening to rearrange themselves. I bent over, forcing myself not to scream.

            When I could focus on him again, Sirius said, “I have to show you something.”

            “This isn’t…it’s not the time.”

            Inhaling through his nose, Sirius took a step back.

            And turned into a massive black dog.

            He did it so seamlessly that I was shocked out of my pain. He had simply melted from a young man to a dog probably as large as the wolf. The dog sat back on his hind legs, thumping his tail against the floor.

            I stared at him. It was so easy for him.

            Then my ribs started popping, and I fell to my knees.

            Sirius transformed back, crouched with his hands touching the floor. He shook his head at me. “I practiced every night. I practiced every single second I could. I don’t even know if I’ll pass my exams because this was the only thing I gave a shit about.”

            “You have…to go…”

            “I’m not leaving you. You’re my best friend. You were right. I didn’t think about what this was like for you. I’m an ass, and I’m sorry. Remus, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve never even seen you change. I can’t know what it’s like for you. But I’ll never leave you alone to do this ever again.”

            My jaw gave that familiar ache. I knew what was coming. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, before I wouldn’t be able to speak anymore.

            Sirius shook his head, brow furrowed. “I figured it out first, but James will have it sussed out for himself in a few weeks. I think even Peter will have it too by the end of the summer. When you get back, we’ll all be here. We won’t leave you here. We’ll be here with you.”

            Bending over, I braced my wrists against the ground as claws pushed out through my fingertips. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I wailed, arching my back downwards as my bones reconfigured.

            Eyes silver in the moonlight, Sirius said, “I won’t leave you here.”

            I felt myself slipping. In a minute, I wouldn’t be myself. I stretched my mouth wide as my teeth fell out, forced from their sockets by my fangs.

            “Go,” I pleaded from the back of my throat.

            Determination overtook his face, and I knew he meant what he said.

            The last thing I remember before losing myself is Sirius returning to his dog form, and the sound of my own screams.

 

I was too tired for anything approaching modesty. I lay on my back in the middle of the destroyed room, too exhausted to lift my hands.

            There were gouges in the walls, and boards pulled up from the floor. Blood splattered the eastern wall. My old human teeth littered the ground. Grey and black fur dusted every surface.

            I heard Sirius grumbling to himself as he performed healing spells on the claw marks across his torso. I flicked my eyes towards him. The entire left side of his face was blooming into a spectacular bruise, an ugly gash down his neck.

            I couldn’t say anything. It was the first time anyone had stayed with me through the night, besides my parents. The only time someone had met the wolf and not turned tail. Sirius had stayed, and I hadn’t killed him.

            Sirius tossed his wand aside, then flopped down on the floor on his side. He flipped his hair back from his face, and gazed at me. I couldn’t look at him. I was expending all my energy on staying conscious.

            “You knew me before anyone else,” Sirius whispered, his voice raw. “You saw exactly what I was and still gave me a chance. I don’t care what you think, Remus. You both can be my best friend. But you and I came first.” He burrowed his head against his arm, and whispered, “Wolf, Wolf.”

            With the last of my strength, I let my arm fall towards him. My fingers grazed his belly. As I shut my eyes, falling asleep, I felt him wrap his fingers around mine.


	6. Whisper

I wake up and decide to start the day by doing very little. I pull the blankets up over my shoulders, shutting my eyes.

            I’m not sure what I dreamed about. It’s all hazy and quiet. The rain is tapping away outside my window. One of my very favourite things is to stay in bed while the rain comes down. I don’t know that people would peg me as lazy, but I certainly can be, if left to my own devices.

            I feel excellent. Well rested, no aches or pains.

            Opening my eyes, I gaze out the window awhile. I lived in this little flat outside Oxford for three weeks, and every single day I was there it poured. I was twenty-five, with no responsibilities and few attachments. Instead of going to the job I’d lined up, I stayed in that flat, sitting by the window, and watching all the young men in their sodden clothing run by.

            There were many days like that in my twenties. I’ve spent so much of my life alone.

            I need to get out today. I should see my friends. I’m a pack animal, after all.

            Sirius will be about. He always is, the shiftless bugger. I wonder what it’s like to be a man who’s never held a paying job in his life. His life has been charmed, I’ll say that.

            Alice might be about. Alice always makes me feel better about life. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen her—

            Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.

            With a smile, I swing my legs out of bed and stand, stretching my arms over my head. When was the last time I saw James and Lily? It’s the perfect day to visit.

            A spring in my step, I go to my closet to pick out the best of my clothing. James won’t notice, but Lily will appreciate that I made the effort. I choose grey slacks and, after a moment’s consideration, a green jumper I’ve never worn. A Christmas gift from Sirius, more expensive than any other piece of clothing I own. It’s so soft that I’m scared I’ll ruin it by touching it. But I look at this jumper and think of Lily and James. His muddy green eyes and her bright ones.

            Yes. This shall do nicely.

            I’ll have a shower and trim my beard, then I’ll get Sirius and we’ll pop over to Godric’s Hollow. Lily and James have the loveliest house there, a two story that’s not too big, and it’s an overstuffed mash of all their favourite things. I can’t wait to see them, it’s been so long—

 

            _What are you doing?_

 

            I’m not certain how much time passes. I’m standing in my bedroom with clothes in hand, in my pajama trousers and nothing else. I am so cold.

            My mouth has gone dry.

            What is wrong with me? Lily and James have been dead for seventeen years.

            No. No, it’s more than that. Twenty? They died in 1981. And now it’s…

            The year is…

            I go to a chair that rests against the wall, dropping heavily into it. I can feel my heart pounding in my throat. Almost as if I could swallow it.

            I forgot. I forgot they died. What is wrong with me? What is _wrong_ with me?

 

Sirius comes around, just as I knew he would. I’m sitting on the front steps of the building, on my third cigarette. I put on my oldest, baggiest clothing. The rain stopped an hour ago, but the sky has stayed grey. I’m glad. I think if the sky was blue right now, I’d go stark raving mad.

            If I haven’t already.

            Sirius pauses outside the gate. He stands a moment before letting himself in. Brows furrowed, he walks up to me with hands in the pockets of his black robes.

            “I don’t know that I’ve seen you smoke since we were sneaking them at Hogwarts,” he observes.

            I take another inhalation, wishing it burned my lungs more than it is. Blowing smoke to the side, I murmur, “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

            Alarm crosses his face, but Sirius covers it with concern. “Are you not feeling well?”

            I let out a sick laugh, putting the cigarette back to my mouth.

            Sirius crouches down, so that he’s just below me. Seeing him bounce on his haunches reminds me of when he’s a dog and sort of skitters around on his rear end when he’s nervous. Looking up at me, he asks, “What’s going on, Remus?”

            “I…forgot something.”

            “We’re old, Remus. Or at least, you’re old. You’re bound to forget things.”

            “I woke up this morning and decided to go visit Lily and James.”

            Surprised, Sirius says, “You want to go to Godric’s Hollow? To the cemetery?”

            “No.”

“Then what do you mean?”

             “I forgot that Lily and James were dead,” I tell him, and his face freezes. Flicking aside ash, I shake my head. “I woke up this morning and I thought to myself, oh, I’ll go visit them. I’ll go to the house, and I was so excited to see Lily and see if she was collecting rain water for her potions, and I thought about what James must think of India’s chances in the World Cup, and I just didn’t _remember_.”

            Sirius is dumbfounded. I glance at him. He gets the way he always does when he doesn’t know what to do with me. He goes blank and helpless. Anyone else, he would bluster his way through. With me, he always seems to falter.

            He abruptly pushes himself up, reaching to put the back of his hand to my forehead. I bat his hand away, saying, “I don’t have a fever.”

            Sirius slaps my arm down. He sets his hand to my forehead. His face immediately changes. “Remus, you’re burning up.”

            “I’m not. I’m not warm at all—”

            “You’ve been sitting out here in the rain. Look at your clothes, they’re still wet.”

            I look down. He’s right.

            “I don’t feel well,” I say.

            “No, I imagine you don’t,” Sirius says, slipping his hand under my elbow. “Stand up, Moony. Get rid of that thing, you’ll lose the deposit if you smoke in the flat. See? That’s the kind of thing a responsible person would say.”

            I cast my cigarette off into the wet brush, and Sirius leads me back inside.

 

I stand beneath the warm spray of water, having the shower I was too stunned for this morning. I still feel cold. I’m tired. I know that I only just woke an hour ago, but everything is…too much.

            Sirius is right. I’m ill. I’ve come down with something, and…I should sleep.

            I hear the door open and lift my head. “I’m all right.”

            “You’re bloody well not,” I hear him reply. I see the muddy dark shape of him through the shower curtain, moving around the bathroom counter. “Your pajamas are a travesty. I made them better.”

            “How do you make pajamas better?”

            “Personally, I would have turned them to silk, but since you’re ill, I made them flannel instead of this poverty stricken cotton you have a fetish for.” He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. I can’t make out the details of his face. Just a pale shape under his dark hair. “Are you nearly finished?”

            “I think so.” I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t move. Turning off the water, I clear my throat.

            I hear his snort. “Please, Moony.” He goes to take my towel off the wall, then thrusts it past the curtain in my general direction. “I’ve seen you naked nearly as many times as I have myself.”

            That’s not entirely true. I don’t think he’s seen me without my clothes since that camping trip we all took to the Highlands when we were twenty. Drying myself off, I consider stepping out there as if I’ve complete comfort with myself, but I’m a bit too out of sorts to pretend. “May I have my trousers?”

            They come around the curtain as well. His hand makes a sort of grabbing motion. “Towel.”

            I trade him, and slip into the pajama bottoms. They are quite nice. Warm and inviting. I tie them at the waist, then push the curtain back.

            Sirius looks me over. I don’t stop him, as I step out of the tub. I do rub my knuckles over my arm, self conscious. I’ve never exactly been much to look at.

            “Have you lost more weight?” Sirius asks, concerned.

            I glance down at myself. Must have. After I taught at Hogwarts, I found myself with a bit of a potbelly that wouldn’t disappear, beginning my inevitable descent into middle age. Only that’s melted away, my hip bones sticking out above the waistband of the trousers.

            Sirius picks up the pajama shirt, unbuttoning it. “Come on, then,” he says kindly. I turn and let him help me into it. “Old as you are, still an absolute disaster.”

            He comes around my front, carefully doing up each button. I look at his face, remembering when he came out of Azkaban, little more than a revenant. He looked like he had risen from the dead. Now, though, he looks younger than his years. The skin around his grey eyes is only just starting to wrinkle. Still has that aristocratic nose, even with all the breaks it suffered over the span of decades. His hair falls to the side of his face in its natural waves. Not a single grey as of yet.

            He remains the most handsome man I have ever seen.

            I feel a bit off kilter. Looking at him like this…he’s familiar. And not.

            “You don’t need to do this,” I say, just for something to say. It’s what I should be saying to him right now. All I really want is for him to wave his wand and for everything to make sense. I want him to pick me up and carry me to my bed and stay with me there. Instead, I say what a man should say when his long time friend has to put him to bed for being ill.

            Sirius scoffs. “If I so much as had the sniffles, you’d do this and more, Remus. Don’t think I don’t know that.” He puts a hand to my back, gently guiding me out the door. “Let’s get you into bed.”

            I climb beneath my sheets, and Sirius pulls the blanket nearly up to my chin. The last time he did this for me was years and years ago. We were both drunk, and I fell onto the mattress and he drunkenly, decorously tucked me in, before dropping unconscious to the floor beside me.

            “I’m drowning in memories,” I whisper.

            Sirius stills, his hand on my side. “What do you mean?”

            “Sometimes…I feel unreal. I feel like I’m barely stitched together, Sirius, and the only thing that I can believe is what happened when we were children.” I look up at him, frightened. “What’s wrong with me that I can’t even remember that our best friends are dead?”

            He sits down on the bedside, keeping a hand on me. “You’re just a bit funny right now,” Sirius reassures me, “because you’re sick. You woke up sick, then you went out and sat in the rain and made it worse. Get some sleep, and you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

            “What if I don’t?”

            “You will. You always come around, Remus.” Sirius pulls his hands into his lap, sighing. He swallows, then says softly, “I’ll just amuse myself in the other room while you get some sleep. You have more books than a library. When you wake up, I’ll even get on the telephone and order food for you. It doesn’t even have to be curry.”

            Being in bed, my head on the pillow, my eyes suddenly feel very heavy. Closing them, I murmur, “Why are you so good to me?”

            I’m drifting swiftly off to slumber when I hear Sirius say quietly, “We’re the only ones left standing, Moony. We have to take care of one another.”

            I feel his hand on my hair, and I fall away from the world.

 

I dream of green light

            I dream of a little boy with pink hair, screaming with happiness as he rapidly waddles away from his laughing grandmother.

            I dream of the castle exploding.

            I dream of black fabric fluttering over a doorway. I hear it whisper.

            I dream of the last days I had a home, and then I’m there, I’m there again.


	7. 18

When I was eighteen, I finished at Hogwarts.

            My last days were melancholy ones. Everyone else viewed it bittersweetly. They were celebrating the end of school. There were few seventh years who left Hogwarts without plans for what came next. People had been lining up careers for the past few months, sitting for interviews, running into the Great Hall with their letters of acceptance before even sitting their NEWTs.

            Others had more personal considerations. About a quarter of the year’s students were engaged. It happened in a flutter over the course of a few weeks. It was a Hogwarts tradition. This was the last time most of these people would live amongst witches and wizards, and a lot of students got married as soon as they graduated. Another quarter would likely get engaged over the summer, and a large number would also have done so by the end of the year. Those who didn’t—well, the odds of them finding companionship later on decreased with every year they were away from Hogwarts.

            James and Lily had become engaged with very little fuss the day after their last exams. The following morning, Peter and I were down at breakfast with them. James looked as pleased with himself as he ever had, sitting back in his chair with an arm behind Lily. She was eating toast, seemingly unaffected by the whole thing.

            “Was it very romantic?” Peter asked. It was a bizarre question for a seventeen-year-old to ask. Then again, Peter had a lot of naïve notions about love from his books. He’d still never had a girlfriend, much like I never had, but it was because he literally turned red and forgot to speak when they were around. I was another case entirely.

            “Not really,” James said, which surprised me. He had spent the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day spelling a stone to turn the same green as Lily’s eyes whenever she looked at it. Until they started dating, James had been a right idiot towards Lily. Once they were together, she became his north star.

            Lily turned to him, offended. “I beg your pardon. I was dead romantic. I said I loved you no matter what, even with all that brain damage you’ve taken from Quidditch.”

            Eyes softening, James murmured, “Yeah.” They smiled at one another, then James leaned forward to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

            Leave it to Lily Evans to propose to James Potter. She had taken him out to the middle of the Quidditch pitch on the pretense of—well, Merlin only knows what. Then she got to one knee and said, “So? Are we getting married or not?” James apparently grew flustered that this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be done. At which point Lily said, “Your future wife’s a feminist! What’s the problem with that?”

            Now they were going to be married. _James and Lily Potter_ , I thought for the first time. It had a lovely ring to it.

            “You’ll both be in the wedding party,” James said.

            “Naturally,” I said. “Who am I supposed to walk down the aisle with?”

            Straight faced, Lily answered, “Petunia.”

            “Get stuffed,” I replied, and she cracked up. We had all shown up on Lily’s doorstep over Christmas. Her sister was…opinionated.

            “You already asked Sirius to be your best man?” I asked James.

            James nodded. I could see the apology there. “Yeah, when I got back this morning.”

            I didn’t begrudge them anything. James and Sirius were special to one another. Sirius was special to me. I understood. “I bet you loved that,” I said to Lily.

            Lily had taken more time to warm to Sirius than we anticipated. Sirius had acted a bit jealous when they first started dating, and Lily was slow to forget a slight. “Thrilled,” Lily said.

            “Oh, Lil,” James said, pained.

            “Stop it, it’s fine.” She looked me over. “Remus will look better in our colours, though.”

            “What colours?” Peter said, confused.

            As if it was obvious, Lily said, “Our wedding colours.”

            “What, pray tell, are those?” said James.

            “Aquamarine and fuschia. _Obviously_.”

            Peter and I started laughing. James simply looked horrified. “I can’t tell if you’re serious. Lily, are you serious? I can’t tell if you’re serious.” She looked back at him with blank eyes. “You’re having a laugh, yeah? You are.”

            “What did you think our colours would be?”

            “Red and gold.”

            “Don’t be juvenile. We’re not having a Gryffindor themed wedding.”

            “We most certainly are.”

            Lily turned away. “Changed my mind. I’m running off with Peter.”

            Peter’s jaw went slack and Lily finally showed teeth. Grinning, I shook my head at her. Lily Evans. Light of our lives.

            I realized I wasn’t the only one gazing at her. Across the Hall, sitting at the Slytherin table, Severus was sitting by himself. He looked as if someone had reached into his chest and snuffed out his heart.

            Before I could do anything, someone grabbed my shoulders, and I shouted. Sirius yanked me backwards. “Do you have the map?”

            “Fucking hell, Padfoot, you nearly gave me a coronary.”

            “Do you have the map?”

            Putting up my hands, I said, “I _always_ have the map.” I did. I carried it on me at all times for fear that someone would find it. So far as I knew, it was the most comprehensive map of Hogwarts that had ever been made. That and it was force of habit. If anyone ever found it, we’d likely be expelled for tracking the movements of every single person in the castle.

            “Get off your arse. I found a room.”

            “You didn’t,” I said, already pushing away my plate. We hadn’t found so much as a crack in the walls we didn’t know about since January. After seven years of searching, I was starting to think the old girl might be letting us down.

            Sirius nodded, grinning that devil’s grin. “Come quick. Filch is off somewhere shagging Mrs. Norris. This is our last chance to be Hogwarts cartographers.”

            Peter was bolting down his breakfast. “Can I come?” he said between bites.

            “No, you can’t come. You have your Divination exam in twenty minutes.”

            Peter sat back, crestfallen, and James said, “What am I, chopped liver?”

            With an eye roll, Sirius said, “Oh please. The Mrs. would never let you.”

            James scoffed, but then he caught sight of Lily’s face. “What?” he said in disbelief.

            “I’m Head Girl,” Lily said. “You think I won’t give you detention for going off God knows where on your last day of class and risk getting retroactively expelled?”

            “You wouldn’t,” James said, starting to stand.

            “Take another step and I’ll pull fifty points from Gryffindor.”

            “You’d _never_.”

            “Try me, James Potter.”

            Sirius tugged me away, and we took off, Sirius waving back merrily, “Nice to see who’s wearing the pants in the relationship, Prongs!”

            I heard James shout after him, “I’ll bloody _Avada Kedavra_ you!”

            I followed Sirius up the stairs, asking, “Where is it?”

            “Just off the restricted book section in the library.”

            “How did we miss that?”

            “I don’t know, Moony, you must be slipping.”

            I chased him up the stairs, but I let him keep some distance. I was the fastest runner in the school, and he knew it. Still, we ran down the hallways like children, laughing at one another.

            When we came into the library, we slowed down. Madam Pince was already glaring at us. I was generally well behaved in the library, but I had also been responsible for levitating all the books off the shelves in sixth year with a particularly aggressive charm. It took them five days to force the books back on the shelves.

            As we walked by, I nodded. “Good morning.”

            “You’re looking lovely as always,” Sirius added.

            I could feel her eyes on us as we turned down an aisle, but Sirius was snickering.

            “How do we get in?” I whispered. Sirius turned, walking backwards, and tugged James’ Invisibility Cloak from his robes with a flourish. Mouth falling open, I shook my head. “He’ll have your bollocks, Sirius Black.”

            With a shrug, Sirius said, “What’s he going to do? Exile me from the wedding party?”

            He threw the cloak over our heads with a practiced flick of the wrist. By that point, we were both tall enough that we had to hunch in order to keep our ankles and feet hidden if we wanted to use the cloak together. We had to draw close, unlike when we were children, and all four of us could fit beneath James’ amazing cloak.

            A student walked by and we went still. Sirius put a finger to my lips, giving me a look of mock disappointment. I raised my eyebrows, as if saying _what_? I certainly wasn’t moving. I tried to push his finger off my mouth by moving my head, but Sirius stubbornly kept it in place. That made me want to laugh, and he mouthed ‘shh,’ but a person looks ridiculous when they do that, so I nearly snorted.

            Sirius clapped a hand over my mouth. ‘Shut up,’ he silently laughed.

            I just looked into his grey eyes. I would miss this most, I knew it. But in this moment, it was he and I on some last adventure. The perfect way to finish my years at Hogwarts.

            Once we were alone, Sirius lowered his cold hand from my mouth and nodded for me to follow him. That was rather difficult, seeing as we were both hiding under the same cloak. We shuffled along, trying not to laugh. I was struggling not to be completely pressed up against his back, because—well, this was Sirius Black, and we were both eighteen.

            We shambled over to the wall nearest to the restricted section. Sirius lifted an index finger, signalling for me to be quiet. I glanced over to where Madam Pince sat at her desk. She was surveying the library suspiciously. Sirius took his wand and slid it through the opening in the cloak. He gave a book on the shelf the gentlest of pokes, breathing, “Work, you damn thing.”

            _The Seasonal Migration of East Malaysian Purple Spotted Slugs_ sunk back an inch, then the section of wall before us silently moved backwards. Sirius reached back, grabbing me by the wrist, and pulled me after him into the dark. The last I saw was him reaching out to push the door closed after us.

            The cloak was shoved at my face. Struggling in the dark, I said, “Very mature, Padfoot—”

            A lantern was lit, and I fell speechless.

            The room was not large by any stretch of the imagination. It was about a quarter of the size of our dorm room, with a ceiling that sloped down to one side. There was, however, a beautiful desk with gargoyles carved into it, and shelves above it filled with tomes whose titles weren’t even allowed in the restricted section.

            What really rendered me dumb was the collection of skulls on the wall. I could only make out half the species. The others were an absolute mystery.

            “This is a _treasure_ ,” I said. I took out the map, walking to the desk to begin sketching in the space. Drawing my wand, I tapped the map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

            Hogwarts revealed itself to me.

            “What do we call this place?” I asked, taking a quill and ink well from my inside pocket. I was the only one of the Marauders who ever had extra quills at all times.

            “Professor Slammell’s Trophy Room.”

            Inking it in, I said, “Have you already gone rifling through the drawers? That’s against the rules.”

            “Should I say something cliched and rebellious about how I never learned to follow the rules?”

            “It’s cheating if you plunder the room before the map arrives, Sirius.” Glancing up at the angled ceiling, I asked, “When did you find this place?”

            “Third year.”

            I turned, furrowing my brow. “What—”

            Sirius hit me with the force of a wave, mouth fastening to mine. I went stumbling backwards, striking the wall. I tried to breathe, but my mouth was full of his. All I could do in those first seconds was tremble as his hands cupped the back of my head.

            My first kiss. Someone had kissed me. Not just someone— _Sirius_ had kissed me.

            I had my hands up. I was touching the fine cloth of his robes, the tip of my nose pressing into his cheek. He gently sucked my lower lip between his, fingers stroking behind my ears, and I kissed him back, kissed him because I wanted to, desperately.

            Then I was forcing him back from me.

            “Stop,” I said, sick. “Stop it.”

            Sirius didn’t let me go, and he didn’t go far. His hands were still on me, a smile in his eyes. He looked so happy. Not in that sly way, but the straight forward way he only shared with me. He was pushing back against my hands, trying to get closer to me.

            “I know you want this,” he murmured. “Remus—”

            I shoved him off, slipping down the wall a bit. My heart was fluttering, and I thought I might weep.

            Sirius let out a sigh. It was a touch patronizing. Like he thought he knew precisely what was going on. “Remus, you don’t have to be coy about it. It’s not like I haven’t known all this time that you fancied me.”

            Shaking my head, I started to swallow. I was nauseous. _I don’t want this_ , I thought. He stepped closer, and I shied away. “Don’t—don’t come any closer.”

            Cocking his head, Sirius looked me over. He rolled his eyes, then ran a hand through his wavy hair, messing it up before tucking it back behind his ear. “Look, it’s fine if you’re embarrassed, but can we just skip the denial bit? I’d rather be kissing you again—”  

            He tried to come closer, and I drew my wand.

            Sirius raised his brows. “Seriously, Moony? You’re going to hex me?”

            “Why would you do this? Why would you ruin things?”

            Hurt, Sirius said, “ _Ruin_ things? I beg your pardon.”

            I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hand to my forehead. This was all wrong.

            “Hey! I haven’t done anything here that you haven’t wanted. I’m not an idiot—”

            “What did you think would happen?” I asked helplessly. “Why are you…”

            “Because…because you’re my favourite person, and I fancy you back, which you’d have noticed if you weren’t so down on yourself all the time.”

            I held my wand tight, but only for something to cling to. I’d no more hex Sirius than a bunny rabbit. “I’m not your favourite person,” I said quietly. “James is, and you’re sad that he’s paired off with Lily, and you’ve got it in your head to pair off with someone as well, only you can’t just go off and be with someone everyone expects. You want to shock people, and you know I—you know I’m…you know I look at you and… So you’ve got it in your head to pick the worst possible person, just to be contrary—”

            “That’s not true,” Sirius said, heated.

            “Yes it is,” I said, heartsick. “I’m this way. I’ve always been…I’ve never fancied girls, and I know people joke about that, I know I’m a joke, but at least I know that this is just the way it is. You _do_ fancy girls, you even shagged Isabella last month in the Ravenclaw Common Room just for the notoriety.”

            “Just because I shagged Isabella doesn’t mean I only like girls. I like _you_ , Remus. You hang the moon for me.”

            “You don’t mean that.”

            “Yes! I do! Damn it, Moony—” Sirius put up his hands, looking like he was either collecting his thoughts or preparing to strangle me. “I don’t have to pretend with you. I can just be myself with you. I don’t feel like I have to prove anything. You’re the only person who makes me feel that way. You’re clever, and funny as all hell, and I really bloody like to look at you. You’re the smartest person I know, so I don’t see why you need to be a damned fool about this. I like you, you prat. And stop shaking your head! I’m telling you the truth!”

            I wished more than anything that I was far away. That he’d never done this. That he’d let me finish my time here with dreams intact.

            “If that was true,” I said, “why did you wait until now?”

            “I had to get my courage up, to be honest.”

            “You did it now because school is ending and you won’t have to deal with people looking. Judging. You want them to know you did something terrible, you want word to get back to your family, but you don’t want to do it here, where everyone can see.”

            Sirius pointed at the door. “Do you want me to walk out of here holding your hand? I will.”

            “It doesn’t matter.”

            “Everything matters! Everything is just starting! Our real lives are starting and I want our lives to be together.”

            I slid my wand into its pocket. “Everything is starting for _you_.”  

            “For both of us! Merlin’s beard, you’re the brightest wizard in this school—”

            “That doesn’t matter. I’m going to have to…I’ll have to struggle my whole life.”

            “It doesn’t have to be that way. If we’re together—”

            “You’ll drop me in months,” I said with certainty. “Once you’ve made your point, you’ll be done. You’ll go back to everything you’re supposed to. You’ll marry a girl and live your rich, ordinary life, and I’ll be out there trying to keep a job for more than one month at a time, and I’m not going to pretend like it’s going to be any different.”

            “Don’t be like this! Just because your parents couldn’t make a go of it—you can look irritated if you please, but I’m going to say it—just because they couldn’t figure out how to live more than a month at a time doesn’t mean that we couldn’t. You’re not a monster when you’re with your pack. You go tame. If we stay together, you won’t hurt anyone.”

            “When you leave—”

            “I won’t leave!”

            “You will. I know you.”

            “Is that really what you think of me? That I’d just—what, toss you aside to live some boring, normal life? Why would I do that when we could be together?”

            “We can’t be together. I’m a monster. You’re rich, you’re a Black, you’ll always be safe. You’ll lose interest.”

            “I won’t! Why are you being like this? You have more job offers than anyone else here, and you’re acting like your life is ending!”

            “It is ending.”

             Sirius stared at me, then burst out, “What are you talking about?”

            “Jobs—none of them would work. If my parents couldn’t make it work, when they weren’t even the ones with this curse, then I certainly can’t. I’m going to do the only possible thing that I can.”        

            “And what’s that?”

            I answered, “I’m going to fight Voldemort until he kills me.”

            The anger fled Sirius’ face in an instant. “Remus.”

            “I’ve already spoken with…well, I’ve spoken with people. As it is, I wouldn’t be able to go off and just act as if everything is all right when he’s killing people…people like my mother. He’s killing people like me. I’m half Muggle. I’m a creature. Voldemort wants people like me dead, and I hate him. I hate him with all I have, Sirius, and the only way I can live with that is if I do my bit. And if I meet Greyback on the way? Then I murder him as well.”

            “Don’t. Remus, please—if you die—”

            “I will die,” I said calmly.

            “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Sirius shouted.

            “Everyone thinks werewolves are dark creatures. That we’re inherently evil. They think we’re all siding with Voldemort. That’s what the world thinks about us. But if I fight—if I fight and give it all I have, and he kills me—people will know. They’ll know a werewolf was willing to die for the right thing. They’ll know we weren’t all like they think.”

            Sirius looked so furious that he might spit. “That’s Dumbledore talking,” he hissed.

            “It’s true, you know it’s true—”

            “That manipulative old coward! And what else? He told you not to tell anyone you’re a werewolf, I imagine. Far more dramatic to have Voldemort spell out your heart, then have it revealed to everyone that you were a dark creature all along. Oh, they’ll eat that up. That’s what he thinks! He doesn’t give a single shit about you or anyone else. All he cares about is winning, even if that means one person left standing at the end!”

            “I’ve made my choices.”

            Sirius swept forward, grabbing my hands. I let him, flinching. The both of us ran hot, but I could feel his pulse beating. “This is insane. I hate Voldemort as much as anyone, I hate the Dark Arts more than you can even imagine. But I don’t give a damn about right or wrong or winning or losing if it means everyone dead. What use is winning if you’re dead? Please—I can’t let you do this. You and James and Peter—you’re the only family I have. Don’t stand there and tell me the best thing you can do is die.”

            “I’m not going to lie to you. It _is_ the best thing I can do.”

            Sirius was holding my hands so tightly that it hurt. I wanted it to. I wanted to look back on this memory and feel pain. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “I’ll go with you. You want to die, I’ll have to as well.”

            “That’s not what I want—”

            “What else am I going to do? Laze around while you’re off fighting the Dark Lord? Leave you to all the glory? Never.”

            “You can do as you like. It doesn’t change what I said. You need to let go of my hands.”

            “Please—”

            “We won’t talk about this again. If you say anything to me about it, I’m not going to know what you’re talking about. This was a mistake, and you’re not going to make it again.”

            Sirius suddenly lifted my hands. He loosened his hold, rubbing his thumbs over my palms. Gazing at me, Sirius said softly, “Wolf, Wolf.” It felt as though someone had plucked a string inside me and sent everything vibrating. “I’m the only one with a secret name for you. I knew you first. You’re mine.”

            I was. I knew in that awful moment I always would be. It was a truth I had never allowed myself to think before, and now that I had, I wanted to wipe the memories clean.

            I tugged my hands out of his, seeing the anguish in his eyes. “I don’t belong to anyone. We’re friends, Sirius. That’s all. Stop messing about. Marry a nice girl, and have children, and I won’t ever remind you about this. You’ll thank me later.”

            I stepped around him, going to get the map. From behind me, Sirius said, “We’re more than friends. You know that. You _know_ that.”

            “I don’t have time for this,” I said, walking to the door. “Mischief managed.”

            When I pulled the door open, a small, furry body darted past me. I was too numb to even be dismayed by her presence, or the man standing in front of me.

            Very pleased with himself, Filch said, “Now what’s this?”

            “We found a room,” Sirius said defiantly. “Doesn’t that entitle us to twenty five house points apiece?”

            That was, in fact, the policy. Filch’s expression soured, and he turned his eyes to the paper in my hand. “What’s this then?” he said, clearly preparing for a fight.

            I glanced at it, then shoved the Marauder’s Map into his hands. I heard Sirius’ horrified groan. “Something childish,” I said to Filch, “and I am done with childish things.”

            I walked away.


	8. The Auror

I stand in the doorway, hands in my pockets. Sirius is jabbing at my stove with his wand. He looks like cavemen must have when they first encountered fire, suspicious and wary and expectant.

            “I’m about ten seconds from using Fiendfyre on you,” he mutters.

            “Or you could push that button there and turn it on,” I say.

            Sirius glances over. No missing the appraisal he gives me, then pretends he hasn’t. “It’s broken.”

            “It’s not broken, you only have to push that button there, then turn the dial.”

            “What is this fetish you have for these pointless Muggle appliances?”

            “It’s not pointless, it cooks my food.”

            “ _How_?” Sirius says in exasperation.

            I let out a short laugh, then cross the kitchen. I look at what he has going. A pot of soup that smells delicious. Some toast that looks soggy. The former was obviously delivered, the latter a mistake of Sirius’ making. Sirius is a great many things, but a good cook is not one of them. I push the plate of toast towards him, saying, “Throw that out. I’ll make fresh.”

            “I just made it!”

            I pick up the plate and hold it out to him. After a moment, Sirius takes it, grumbling, and goes to drop it in the bin. I turn on the stove top, placing the pot on the element. I’m a little impressed that he got as far as ordering in, however long ago that was. He must have used the phone to do it, and Sirius hates the phone.

            He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “How are you feeling?” Sirius asks, trying much too hard to sound casual.

            “You mean, have I forgotten that anyone else is dead?” I reply, frustrated with myself. “If I had, I wouldn’t know about it.”

            “You’re ill, is all—”

            “Forgetting something like that isn’t having the flu. It’s dementia.”

            Sirius snorts. “Remus, you’re demented, all right, but you’re not losing your mind. You’ve been working hard on your book. Not sleeping enough. Punishing yourself for something.”

            “Punishing myself for what?”

            “I don’t bloody know. You always are, though.” He bends towards me a bit, raising his brows. “We have a pretty good life, Remus. But it doesn’t…it doesn’t erase what happened. Sometimes that comes back a bit. Sometimes we’re both a touch off. It’s not anyone’s fault—well, anyone who’s still living. It just happens. Don’t put yourself in a twist about it.”

            “It wasn’t only them,” I said quietly.

            “What?”

            “It wasn’t only James and Lily I forgot about. I thought about seeing Alice first. I couldn’t remember the last time I spoke to Alice.”

            “Moony…”

            “It’s not normal.”

            “No, it’s not normal. But when have we ever been normal? Maybe this is some middle aged werewolf thing we know nothing about. Not like they typically live as long as you have.”

            “So for all you know, I could have some werewolf Alzheimer’s disease. Is that it?”

            Sirius rolls his eyes, same way he always has. I want to believe him. I want to believe that I’m only shell shocked, that I have a cold, that there’s some reason. I don’t want to think…

            That maybe I’m losing my mind.

            “If I thought you were sick in the head—”

            “You wouldn’t do a damned thing at first,” I reply. “You’d try to convince us both I was fine for as long as you could until you couldn’t anymore.”

            Sirius hesitates at that, then shrugs, as if what I’ve said doesn’t matter. “Good thing you’re just overworked and have the sniffles from sitting in the rain, then.” I sigh, and Sirius threads his fingers together. I can see from his face that there’s more he wants to say, so I wait. “Would…would you want to go see James and Lily?” I gaze at him, off guard. Sirius is uncomfortable, unable to meet my eyes. “I know we haven’t…we haven’t been to the cemetery in some time. We could do that. If you like.”

            “It’s not them, Padfoot,” I say, and Sirius flinches. “It’s only their bones.”

            He looks away, towards the window, mouth twisting. “Yeah, all right.”

            “Wherever they are, they’re all right. You know that.”

            “Yeah. And they’re together.”

            “Of course they are. Lily and James Evans.”

            Sirius chuckles at that. “Oh, he hated when we called him that.”

            “It’s a fine enough name,” I say, fetching a spoon to stir the soup with.

            “It’s the name that vile sister of hers had.”

            “Yes, well, she got rid of that when she married that walrus-looking fellow who took such terrible care of Harry all those years.”

            Sirius’ face blackens. “They put him in a closet,” he says, teeth gritted. “Beneath the stairs.”

            I’m quick to say, “But he’s fine now.”

            “He should have been with me—”

            “He’s fine. He grew up, he’s a good man, he’s going to be a father. Everything is fine.”

            Sirius blinks, the darkness fleeing him in a second. “James would be a granddad,” he says, befuddled.

            “Yes. I suppose he would have.”

            “Merlin’s beard, that means we’re old.”

            “It does.” I can tell he’s thinking about James. It’s just a certain glint of the eye, the distance of his gaze. I think about it, then say, “Do you think Ginny is all right?”

            “Must be. We would have heard otherwise.” Like I expected he would, Sirius squirms a little. I wait for him to say what I knew he would when I prompted him. “We should see them soon, shouldn’t we? It’s been a few days.”

            “We could do.”

            “Could we see if they’re around tonight? If you’re not up to it, I could see what they’re doing tomorrow—”

            “Tonight is fine. I’d like to see them.”

            “Are you sure? You don’t look as peaky as before, that’s for certain.”

            “Would do me good to see them. I could use their friendly faces.”

            “As could I. I always can. I’ll owl them, then?” I nod, and Sirius grins. “Let me see about an owl.”

            “You could call them,” I say, and he scoffs as he leaves the room.

            It will be good to see Harry and Ginny. It will be good to see their faces. Yes.

            I stir the soup, and I try not to think of them as a consolation prize.

 

“Sirius said you weren’t feeling well.” Ginny raises her brows at me, holding out the plate of brussel sprouts.

            Taking it, I say, “Just a cold. How are you?”

            “Morning sickness,” she says glumly. “Difficult to feel like Seeker of the Year when you’re vomiting your insides out.” Harry reaches over, giving her back a rub, and she glances at him, annoyed but affectionate.

            “Your mum had the same thing with you,” Sirius says to Harry, mouth half full of food.

            Harry immediately sits straighter. He does any time we talk about his parents. It’s a bit sad, sometimes. That after all these years, he’s still starved for any scrap of them. “Did she?”

            “She was miserable,” I say, so Sirius can continue eating his second chicken breast. “She took every opportunity to tell us exactly how miserable she was.”

            Harry looks over at Ginny. She doesn’t notice for a moment. When she does, she arches an unimpressed brow. Ginny has always been magnificent at communicating a whole spectrum with eyebrows alone.

            Snickering, Sirius wipes at his mouth with a napkin. He picks up his drink, leaning back in his seat. “She was very happy, though. Very excited about you.”

            “A person can be excited and still not want to vomit up their insides,” Ginny retorts.

            “Touché.”

            “I hope you’re enjoying that whiskey.” Ginny gazes at Sirius’ glass longingly. “That was a gift from Silvania Morani. Our win over Barcelona.”

            “I very much appreciate the sacrifices you’re making for our child,” Harry says.

            “You had better.”

            To us, Harry asks, “What was Dad like? When Mum was pregnant?”

            “The picture of chivalry,” Sirius replies.

            That’s kind, but not precisely true. It does no good to gild the lily, as it were.

            “Afraid,” I say.

            They all look at me.

            Pushing food around my plate with the end of my fork, I tell Ginny and Harry, “He was 19 years old when your mother was first pregnant. Witches and wizards have children young all the time, but still—19 is quite young. We were in the middle of the war. We were all frightened, all the time, even if Sirius and your dad pretended to be nonchalant about it. Your father was a good man. A great man. But pedestals are for vases, not people. He worried about the world he was bringing you into. Your father loved you enough to be frightened. Terrified, even. He had his doubts. You won’t have to worry like he did. The world your child will be born into—it’s a good place. Not perfect, but good. Because you both helped make it that way.”

            I smile a little. I’ve always been more interested in difficult truths than easy lies. This wasn’t even a difficult one. James and Lily were teenagers. Of course it was worrisome for them.

            Only Harry and Ginny are both staring at me like I’ve said something unthinkable.

            Why are they looking at me like that?

            Sirius clears his throat, smiling cheerfully. “Oh, don’t listen to Moony.” He claps me on the shoulder, giving me a jostle. “He projects onto people. Your dad was thrilled about you. Never a second thought.”

            Harry relaxes a fraction, and Ginny goes back to eating. I’ve narrowed my eyes at Sirius, though. What is he doing? What is happening here?

            Sirius catches my eye and shrugs. “What?”

            “It’s all right for them to know that people are frightened when they get pregnant,” I say gently. “It’s not a slight to anyone’s memory to tell the truth.”

            “We’re not frightened,” Ginny says.

            “Of course not,” Harry adds.

            I look between them both. “The last time we were here—come now, you two. We’ve known you a long time. No one’s going to think any less of you for having some nerves.”

            They glance at one another, then back to me, dubious. “We’re fine,” Harry says, looking at me as though I might not be. “It’s a big responsibility, but—in a few months, little James or Lily will be here, and we’ll do what we’ve always done. Our best.”

            I flex my hand. I have questions. I have concerns.

            Only no one else does, and this clearly isn’t the time.

            “I’m happy you’re both confident,” I say. “Harry, tell us a little about work.”

            His eyes light up, and he launches into a description of a dragon smuggling investigation that sounds very dangerous and exciting. I eat my food, and I listen, and I watch.

 

I’m doing the dishes by hand when Sirius catches my elbow. I could tell it was him by his step. Quick, light, and aimed right at me.

            He’s narrowing his eyes at me. “What on earth was all that back there?”

            “My thought exactly,” I reply, rinsing the dishcloth beneath the tap.

            “What was that rubbish about James? Saying he was frightened about Harry being born.”

            “He _was_. At least once a month, we’d have to go round a pub and drag him back to Lily because he was about to crack. I can’t say I blame him. Death Eaters breathing down our necks at every turn, Voldemort killing our friends every other day.”

            Sirius is staring at me, incredulous. “That never happened.”

            “What never happened?”

            “James never—we never had to go to any pub to get him.”

            I give him a moment, then sigh. I don’t want to argue with him. Picking up a plate, I go back to washing. “We just have different views of the past, Sirius. It’s fine. Everyone remembers things differently.”

            “You’re remembering things _wrong_. James was excited for Harry to be born.”

            “Of course he was excited. But he was terrified as well.”

            “No, that’s not true—”

            Turning to him, I raise my shoulders. “Do you not remember what happened the day after Lily told him? He tried to find all of us, but I was in Yorkshire dealing with that Higgins disaster, and you—I can’t remember where you were, but he couldn’t find either of us, so he went to Peter and told him, and James burst into tears.”

            “What are you talking about?” Sirius hisses. “Wormtail didn’t find out first. James told us first—you and I. Of course he told us first.”

            “No. He didn’t. How can you not remember that?”

            “I’m remembering it properly. You’re—you’re still sick. You must be remembering things improperly because you’re ill—”

            “Sirius, are you honestly telling me that you don’t remember that?”

            “I remember all of it. But not the way you’re telling it. James wasn’t a coward.”

            “I never said he was.”

            “It certainly sounds like it. Crying because he didn’t want a baby. Getting drunk. Next you’ll tell me he tried to run off while Lily was pregnant.”

           

            _Why are you here?_

 

            Fingers snap in front of my eyes. Startled, I step back, losing my grip on—whatever’s in my hands.

            Sirius snatches the plate before it can fall. He looks at me, straightening. “Moony, are you feeling all right?”

            I brush my hair away from my forehead with the tips of my fingers. I’m a bit dizzy, to be honest. “I just felt funny a moment. I’m fine.” I hold my hand out for the plate.

            Sirius doesn’t pass it to me. Instead, he studies me. It’s irritating. I don’t know why he’s looking at me like that. He reaches out, pulling the dishrag from my hand. “I’ll take care of this. With my wand, like an actual wizard. Go chat with Harry for a few minutes. We’ll take off in a few.” I’m about to argue, but Sirius murmurs, “Go see Harry, Remus.”

            I run my thumb along the ends of my fingers. See Harry. Yes. That would be nice.

 

The study is filled with books and pictures. Other things are tucked into the corners. A sneakoscope, a rose that’s miraculously blooming. Harry’s old broom mounted on the wall among all the awards he’s won as an Auror.

            He’s seated at his desk, scribbling in a large leather journal. Harry looks up when I come in, a sheepish smile on his face. “You caught me,” he says, dropping back in his chair.

            There’s not many places to sit. I lift the books off a chair beneath the window. “Your dragons?”

            “Oh, I just had a thought. Drives Ginny mad. She’ll say I’m never completely off the clock. She’s not exactly in a position to talk. Any time I can’t find her, she’s off in her trophy room writing out new plays.” Harry threads his fingers together over his stomach. “What’s on your mind, Remus?”

            Setting the books on the floor, I answer, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a function of middle age. Thinking things should be one way and they’re actually another.”

            “Is this about dinner? You’re right, you know. People remember things differently. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just the human brain.”

            “I appreciate that, Harry. Sirius seems to think I’ve lost my marbles. I can’t help but wonder myself sometimes.”

            “I see it in the Aurors all the time. People project their concerns onto their impressions of others.”

            “So you’re more inclined to believe Sirius’ version of events.”   

            Raising his shoulders, Harry sighs regretfully. “Given everything I know about my dad—everything everyone has told me over the years—I just can’t picture him behaving the way you say he did.”

            Let it go. “It’s good that you want to remember your dad in the best possible light, Harry. I’m just concerned that you’re going to try living up to an unrealistic ideal. The both of you are going to be under a great deal of pressure as it is.”

            “It’s a baby, Remus, not a bomb.”

            “Have you ever changed a diaper?” I reply dryly.

            With a grin, Harry says, “Note to self. Cast a shield charm on myself every time I have to change a nappy.”

            My eyes fall on the framed picture he keeps on his desk. “The Order,” I say.

            Harry looks back, then picks up the photograph. “The original Order.” He holds it out to me, and I take it. “Mad Eye gave me that for Christmas one year. One of the best presents I ever received.”

            I look at the faces of all my old fellows. We were so young. Many of us escaped unscathed, but there were those who didn’t. Death…or something worse.

            I touch Alice’s face.

            “Remus?”

            She waves at me, familiar grin on her round face. Blond hair bobbed, looking so very much like her son.

            “Do you have concerns about your job?” I ask.

            Confused, Harry says, “What do you mean?”

            “Do you worry, with Ginny being pregnant, about being an Auror?”

            “Why should I?”

            That’s not the right answer. He’s not trying to cover some hidden doubts. He honestly hasn’t asked himself that question. Feeling goosebumps encroaching on my skin, I tilt the photograph towards him so he can see the faces. “I was good friends with Alice Longbottom. Did you know that?”

            “I think you’ve mentioned it.”

            “Alice was splendid. Probably the best Auror I’ve ever seen. Quick, and sharp, and always several steps ahead of the Death Eaters. The only way they got her and Frank was because we all had our guard down. Voldemort was dead. We thought the threat was over. Alice, though—she might have been an amazing Auror, but she was also silly. She was fun. And she was very much aware of the dangers. She was half ready to leave the Aurors once Neville was born. Not just because of Voldemort. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her, and leaving Neville without a mother.” I look at Harry and say, “Have you not thought about what could happen to your child if something happens to you at work?”

            Unfazed, Harry says, “The only thing I’m good at is being an Auror. Not only am I good at it, I love it. That’s not going to change when we have children.”

            “Yes. It will.”

            “Remus—you remember how we were just talking about our own concerns bleeding into other people’s lives—”

            “Do you honestly think you couldn’t do something else? Do you think this is the only option available to you? I mean, Harry, it’s not as if you need the money.”

            “Of course this is the only option. There will always be dark wizards. There will always be a fight.”

            “This isn’t the only way to fight them.”

            “What else is there?”

            Hesitating, I say, “I thought you might make an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

            Harry gazes at me a moment before beginning to chuckle. “A teacher? Me? That’s a little farfetched. I’ve always wanted to be an Auror. Not a teacher. Besides, I’d be rubbish at it.”

            “Would you think about it?”

            “Think about what?”

            “Harry—what if you’re out on one of these investigations and someone kills you?”

            “That won’t happen—”

            “But if it does,” I insist. “What do you think Ginny and your children would think?”

            Shrugging, Harry says, “I think they would know I was doing what I was supposed to. That I had a responsibility and wasn’t going to turn away from it. I think they’d be proud. But you’re worrying too much, Remus. Nothing will happen to me.”

            This.

            This is the moment.

            Sirius pops his head through the door. “What are you two old war heroes going on about?”

            “Remus is trying to convince me I should quit the Aurors,” Harry says.

            Pulling a face, Sirius says, “Don’t be ridiculous. You were meant to be an Auror.”

            “Of course I was.”

            “Remus? You ready to leave?”

            I’m not able to say anything. I give my head a single nod, and look down at the picture of all my old companions. Gone. Not gone. My mind splits, looking at it.

            This is the moment I know that there is something very wrong with the world.


	9. 21

When I was twenty-one, I was entertaining Alice and Neville Longbottom in my latest flat. I sat on the floor, watching Neville careen around, dressed as a pumpkin.

            “And this was Frank’s idea?” I said, amused.

            “You know Frank.” Alice was sitting in the corner of the sofa, propping her head up. She was dressed all in pink and purple, as per usual. Every few seconds, her eyes would stray back to Neville before snapping back to me. “He loves everything American. He wants Neville to have an American Halloween.”

            Neville dropped onto the carpet, grabbing another small costume. There was at least half a dozen piled there for him to mess about with. He held it up over his head. “Play!”

            “Yes, love.” Leaning down, Alice stripped the pumpkin costume off him. Pulling another one over his head, Alice said, “I half think he wants to take him door to door asking for candy.”

            “I imagine that will go over well.”

            “We’ll just take him around our parents’. Algie already has a whole bucket of candy to give him. I don’t think he realizes that he’s still only fifteen months. He can’t exactly have a toffee.”

            “So this is really Frank’s nefarious plot to get candy.”

            Alice looked at me, then smiled widely. “Must be,” she laughed. She patted Neville’s back, then turned him around. “Go show Uncle Remus how handsome you look.”

            Neville came running over to me as fast as he was able, bobbling side to side as he did. He was the most cheerful baby. Lily and James’ son had his moments of silence, of watching you calmly. Neville, on the other hand, basked in the world. Waving his hands at me, he cried out, “Unca!”

            I grinned, and picked him up. He was dressed like a little dragon, with a tuft of purple hair atop his head. “Look at what a fearsome dragon you are. Do you know what sound a dragon makes? Grr.”

            He tried to echo me, and only blew out spit bubbles. Laughing, I gathered him tight in my arms and swayed him to and fro.

            I had been in London a few weeks. The Order was scattered across the UK, all with our own assignments, our own troubles. We were in frequent contact. But as the Order lost members, we recognized that it was dangerous to have many of us in the same location at once.

            When Neville and Harry were first born, Alice and Frank and Lily and James could often be found in the same house, the two little boys giggling and playing games that were incomprehensible to us. The last few weeks, though, they had been kept as far from one another as possible. I hadn’t seen Harry in nearly a month, Lily and James always on the run. Frank and Alice were closer to me, but I didn’t know where. They had a secret keeper, and that was all I needed to know on the topic.

            “Are you certain it’s a good idea?” I asked. Neville tugged on my beard, and I made to nip at his hand. “Taking Neville around your parents’?”

            “Frank and I have discussed it,” Alice said. She bit at her lip, then sighed. “Unless Voldemort himself appears, I doubt there’s anything we couldn’t handle.”

            Alice Longbottom was a happy, brilliant woman, a head shorter than me, with chubby hands and a big heart. She had also killed more Death Eaters than most of the Order combined. Alice and I met when she saved me from a Death Eater who had disarmed me and was about to lay the killing curse. Then this cherub in bright pink appeared from nowhere and sent him flying against a wall. When the man began to evangelize about all that Voldemort would do to right the world, Alice just snorted, “Hark at him!” and sewed the man’s mouth shut with a flick of her wrist.

            “I want to keep him safe,” Alice continued. “And I want him to have a healthy dose of fear. But I don’t want fear to be his whole life, Remus.”

            “I know.” The little boy smiled up at me, clueless as to the questions surrounding him. “What do you think he wants with Neville and Harry, Alice?”

            “I don’t know. Something about the day they were born? I’ve gone over it in my head so many times—”

            “I know you have. I know we all have, Alice. I’m sorry. I want you to be happy when you’re here. We don’t have to talk about this.”

            “ _Remus_. We’re always happy to see you. I’m only sorry Frank couldn’t come. He wanted to bend your ear about Boggarts.”

            “I think he’s looking for _Mr._ Lupin, then,” I replied, an old joke.  

            “Where are you off to next?” Alice asked me.

            “I’m here a few more days. James is supposed to come down next week. It’ll be good to see him.”

            The last few years had been exciting ones, but in the most terrible of ways. There had been weeks when I saw none of my friends, left alone to worry that they might have been killed. I had done things I did not think myself capable of. We were fighting for a better world, yes, but if there was a way to do so bloodlessly, none of us had yet to discover it.

            “You should get out of this flat.”

            I furrowed my brows. “How do you mean?” It was one of the nicer places I had stayed. There were no insects that I could find, and I kept everything neat and spotless.           

            “Not out of the building. I mean, go out. Have some fun. You’re 21, Remus.”

            “You’re 25!”

            “I am. I also have a husband, a baby, and a full-time job. In my spare time, I fight the forces of darkness. I worry about you, being by yourself.”

            “Oh, I do all right.”

            Knowingly, Alice said, “Is ‘all right’ those times you disappear?”

            Uncomfortable, I replied, “We all disappear. It’s the nature of the Order.”

            “You know what I mean.”

            “I’m afraid I don’t.”

            Alice gave it a moment, then smiled. “Well, we all have our secrets. Neville, would you like to be a kitty next?”

            The small dragon barrelled back to his mother. “Kitty!”

            “At least he’s excited about it. Bless him, he’s such a sweetheart. Even when he was born, he was so sweet to everyone.” Alice went about undressing Neville again. “I can’t believe he has the same blood as Augusta.”

            It was difficult to get Alice to say an unkind word about anyone who wasn’t involved in the dark arts, but her mother-in-law was the exception. “Is she being her usual charming self?”

            “I half think she’d like Frank to suffer some calamity, just for the bragging rights. Oh, maybe I’m being too harsh. I think I worry. That something will happen to us. That somehow she’ll sink her claws into my sweet boy. I want him to grow up happy. I want him to always smile like this.” Alice rubbed her nose against Neville’s, and the boy giggled.

            “You’re a good mother.”

            “I have my moments. You know, I always thought you would make an excellent father.”

            Blushing, I replied, “That’s very kind. I don’t think that’s in my future.”

            “Why not?”

            “Haven’t met the right girl, I suppose.”

            Alice didn’t reply to that right off. “How’s Sirius?” she asked suddenly.

            My blush deepened. Her timing after that last observation was far too canny. “I haven’t seen him since September. He’s off doing something.”

            “That’s funny. He said he’s been by here, but he hasn’t been able to find you.”

            “I’m always here,” I lied, “unless I have an assignment.”

            “If any of us are going to die an early death, I think it might be him. And only because of that contraption he roams around on.”

            “Don’t say a word against it to him. You’ll only encourage him.”

            “What about Peter? I saw him on Diagon the other day. He half jumped out of his skin when I said hello.”

            “That’s Peter for you. He’s always been a bit nervous.”

            “I don’t blame him. He’s such a tender soul. I worry about Peter. In my experience, the good ones go first.” Alice shrugged. “Except when they’re Death Eaters. Not a good one in the lot.” She spun Neville around, bouncing him on her knee. He was dressed up as a grey cat, flapping his hands. “Nevvie, what does a kitty say? What does a kitty say, Nevvie?”

            He started barking, and Alice and I laughed until my stomach hurt.

 

When the doorbell rang, I was making a grilled cheese sandwich, which was about the extent of my culinary skills, then and now. Switching the pan to another burner, I opened the window and leaned out.

            Peter was standing at my front door, in trousers that were too long and robes that were too short. He put up a hand with a smile. “Hello.”

            “Peter! Alice Longbottom was singing your praises about an hour ago.”

            He waved me off with a blush. “Get off it.”

            “You know how to get in.”

            Grimacing, Peter withdrew his wand. “You should change that, Remus. It’s not safe.” He touched his wand to the door and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” When the door cracked open, he frowned at me.

            “It only does that for the Marauders. If I can’t trust you three idiots, who can I trust?” Pulling back inside, I hollered at him, “Come in! I’m making lunch.”

            Peter shuffled around the corner, into the kitchen. He was a short, pale man, with hair that wasn’t quite blond and wasn’t quite brown. He had big blue eyes that squinted a lot. “Oh, that smells good.”

            “Have a seat. You can have this lot, I’ll take the next.”  

            “I’m not going to steal your lunch—”

            I slipped the sandwich onto a plate, then placed it on the table. “Go on. Sit! I’ve missed you, Wormtail.”

            Peter dropped into the chair, shrugging off his overrobes. “I can’t stay too long,” he said apologetically. “I only came round because I wondered if you’d seen Sirius. I mean—of course I would come round, I want to, I just—oh, Moony, you know what I’m trying to tell you.”

            “Sirius? No, I haven’t seen him. Last I heard he was in Canterbury. Why?”

            “I heard he’s looking for me.” Peter picked up the sandwich, half stuffing it in his mouth.

            Bewildered, I said, “Looking for you? I hadn’t heard anything about that.”

            “Him and James both. I got an owl, but it had been attacked. Half the message was missing. I tried sending an owl back to Sirius, but—” Peter shrugged, miserable. “You know what it’s like with me and owls.”

            I did. Peter had abysmal luck with owls. They either didn’t deliver his messages or attacked him before he could even get the thing on them. Buttering more bread, I said, “I haven’t heard anything about it. They haven’t owled me anything.”

            “I’m going to head back to my place after this, in case they left another message there. I wanted to check here first, to see if you knew anything about it.”

            “I don’t.” I was a touch perplexed. We all had our own responsibilities when it came to the fight against Voldemort, but there had never been a time when James, Peter, and Sirius were let in on a secret that I wasn’t. “James is supposed to be in London next week, but Sirius—well, heaven only knows when he’ll be through. If he’s trying to find you, though, the best thing to do would be to go home. They’ll find you there.”

            “You would tell me, wouldn’t you, Moony? If you knew? I’m afraid I’ve done something wrong, and they’re going to tell me I’m being sacked from the Order or something.”

            “Don’t be silly, Peter.” I put a hand to the back of a chair, leaning down to look into his eyes. “There’s no Order without the Marauders. And there’s no Marauders without all four of us. All right?”

            Relaxing, Peter nodded. “Thanks, Remus.”

            I arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t do something wrong, did you?”

            Stricken, Peter moaned, “ _Remus_ —”

            “I’m teasing, Peter. Keep eating.”

            As I turned back to the stove, Peter said, “I must have, though. They can’t need me for anything. I’m a joke to them.”

            I was stunned. Peter wasn’t precisely known for his introspection. What he was known for was following James and Sirius blindly. In all the years we were friends, I could have counted on one hand the number of times he was vocally cross with them.

            I turned off the stovetop, then sat at the table. Peter avoided my eyes, nibbling on his sandwich. “You’re not a joke,” I said quietly.

            “I am to them,” he murmured. “Always have been.” He glanced at me. “Not to you, though. You never treated me like a joke.”

            I was at a loss for words. Had Sirius and James treated Peter unfairly over the years? Of course they had. Not as badly as they treated others in school, but he’d been the butt of more than a few jibes. James had grown out of it, but Sirius still produced plenty of cutting remarks at Peter’s expense. Peter had never seemed to mind. He was so happy to be friends with the popular boys that he’d just dismissed it. Or so I’d thought.

            Peter said, “It’s fine, Remus. They’re my friends. I was never…I was never sure why they were, though.”

            “Because you _are_. You’re our friend.”

            “I was just…I was just _there_. If there’d been more boys in Gryffindor that year—”

            “Then maybe we wouldn’t have gotten to know you like we had, and we would have been the poorer for it.”

            “I don’t know why the Hat put me in Gryffindor, Remus. Why do you think it did?”

            This I was familiar with. Peter had needed bolstering up as long as I could remember. He needed encouragement, and I didn’t mind giving it to him. After all—he was one of my closest friends.

            Tapping my fingers on the table, I told him, “It sorted you into Gryffindor because you’re the most loyal man I’ve ever known. You might not think of yourself as brave, Peter, but you are.” He ducked his head, embarrassed. “I know what you did to those Death Eaters in Leeds. A coward could never do something like that. You’re Gryffindor, through and through.”

            “You think?” Peter said hopefully.

            “I’m sure of it. Sirius and James are sure of it too. How would we have gotten the name Marauders without you, eh? Buck up, Peter. I’m sure James and Sirius want you for something secret that they can’t even tell me about.”

            “Now you’re pulling my leg.”

            “Maybe a little,” I smiled. “But maybe not. You’re a good friend, Peter. I never doubt that you’ll do the right thing. Gryffindor, through and through.” I pointed at him and stood. “Do you want more? I’ll make you another.”

            Peter smiled at me gratefully. “Thanks, Remus,” he said, and I knew he wasn’t talking about the sandwich.

            I winked at him and went back to making lunch.

 

After Peter left, I couldn’t get that nagging feeling out of my stomach.

            We had been a team for ten years. What did the rest of them need to know that I didn’t?

            So I went to the telephone and dialled the number I knew by heart. I didn’t worry about anyone making a connection based on a phone call. Nearly every single member of Voldemort’s army was pureblood, and they would have never deigned to investigate the intricacies of the telephone.

            Listening to the ring on the other end, I chewed on my thumbnail. I was two weeks away from the full moon, as healthy as I had ever been, but I and all my friends were in constant, unending danger. I longed for the days when we were back at Hogwarts. When danger was a hypothetical, and we were all together.

            The phone picked up. “Hello?”

            “Hello Prongs.”

            There was a pause. Then James said joyously, “Moony! Blimey, it’s good to hear your voice.” He stopped, and when he spoke again, he sounded concerned. “Is everything all right? Do you need help?”

            “No, I’m fine.”

            “You remember the code phrase, yeah?”

            “James. I don’t need to use the code phrase. Are—are you all right? Do you need help?”

            “No, heaven’s no. I guess it’s just habit at this point. I think I might hear something awful at any moment.”

            “You and me both.”

            “Did you just call to chat, or—?”

            “Actually…” I scuffed my foot against the carpet, realizing I was going to sound ridiculous. Like a jealous school boy who’d been left out. “Peter was just here.”

            “Peter? What for?”

            “He said you and Sirius are looking for him. He was wondering if Sirius was here.”

            “Oh.” I heard the phone muffle, and James saying, “Harry—out of your mouth. Now. _Harry_. That’s a good boy.” The phone uncovered. “Sorry, Remus. Peter? Yeah, there’s an envelope that needs to get to him. I don’t know what it’s about, but it must be important. I asked Sirius to keep an eye out for him.”

            I felt the tension leave my body. Not excluded, just…not quite as in the loop as I ought to be.

            “Are you there?”

            “Yeah, James, I’m here. Sorry, I think I just got a bit paranoid for a moment there. Wondering if there was something going on that I should know of.”

            “Well, then, you can tie with Sirius.”

            I winced. Sirius really had gotten bad, the last few times I saw him. He nearly made Molly Weasley cry, interrogating her and Arthur about the route they took, certain they had been followed. “Oh, he’s all right. The wrong choice would be naivete. How are you all? Looking forward to seeing your face next week.”

            “Me as well, Moony. We’re all right. More or less. He’s still…he’s still looking for us.”

            “I’ve asked everyone I can think of, James. No one seems to know why he’s looking for Neville or Harry. I’ve heard rumours that Dumbledore might, but Dumbledore always knows more than the rest of us, so that could easily be supposition.”

            “I don’t know that the _why_ matters, Remus. All that matters is he’s after my son. If he takes a step in this house, if he so much as sets his eyes on Harry, I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he traipses around calling himself the Dark fucking Lord. I’ll slaughter him on sight.”

            “James,” I said, pained.

            “What? It’s the truth.”

            “No—you said house. Don’t tell me that—don’t tell _anyone_ that.” I heard him let out a low groan, realizing what he’d done. “Sirius is going to be your secret keeper, not me, if he’s not already. Don’t tell me anything that they could _Crucio_ out of me.”

            “I know—I just slipped up—fucking hell, Lily will kill me.”

            “I’m not saying you should tell her, I’m just asking you to be careful.”

            “She’ll know I’ve done something just by looking at me. She has these—wife powers. I don’t know how she does it.”

            “How is she?”

            “Oh…tired. She’s tired, Remus. We all are.”

            I could hear it in his voice. The doubt. James believed what he believed, but when one of the most powerful wizards in history is looking to kill your son, panic can sometimes outweigh belief.

            “You’ll be safe,” I reassured him. “Sirius will keep your secret. We’ll win the war. Harry is going to grow up and be the greatest Quidditch player that ever lived.”

            James cracked up. “You should see him on that broom Sirius gave him. Oh, I could strangle him, Remus. I could punch him in his face.” James sighed, and said, “I need to get going. Harry looks like he’s about two seconds from sticking a firetruck in his mouth.”

            “Give us a ring when you’re on your way down. Just so I know.”

            “Will do. Hey—Remus?”

            I stopped, hearing the sudden weight in his voice. “Yes, James?”

            “You know that—we love you. All of us. We’ll get through this. Together.”

            I smiled slightly. “I could say the same to you. Love to Harry and Lily.”

            “I’ll let them know. Bye, Moony.”

            “Bye Prongs.”

            As I went to hang up, I heard him yelp, “Harry, no! We don’t bite the cat—” The line went dead.

            Chuckling, I hung up the phone, and went to do the lunch dishes.

 

It was only a half hour later when I heard the rumbling of the engine. This was starting to become absurd, but I couldn’t help the smile on my face.

            I opened the front door just in time to see Sirius pull up on his motorbike. He loved that thing. Sirius might have been befuddled by Muggle appliances, but he loved their vehicles. He’d race around London with it, had escaped Death Eaters on it, would fly it across country like the 21-year-old rebel he so effortlessly was.

            As he turned off the engine, I called out, “I’m hosting a who’s who of the Order today. You’re my latest guest.”

            Pulling off his helmet, Sirius shook out his shaggy hair, then gave me a devilish grin. “Moony!” He leaped off the motorcycle, plopping the helmet on the seat. He wore black trousers and a silky white shirt unbuttoned halfway, necklaces hanging down to his navel. I had to focus to keep my eyes on his face instead of…well, his everything else. Striding up the walk, Sirius asked, “Who else has been about?”

            “First I had Alice and Neville. Then Peter. And I’ve only just gotten off the phone with James.”

            Sirius stopped in front of me, hands on his hips. “You’ve seen Peter?”

            “He came by, looking for you. This is starting to become a comedy of errors. James said there’s a message for him or something?”

            Sirius waved a hand. He had a ring on every finger except his index. “I know nothing about it. James asked me to track him down, so I am. Which—”

            “Is why you’re here. Am I really just a way station on everyone else’s journey?”

            “Oh, don’t be cross.” Sirius wrapped his arms around me, swinging me from side to side. “You know you’re everyone’s favourite, Moony.”

            “Lily is everyone’s favourite.” He gave me a wet kiss on the side of the head, and I shoved him off. “Please. Hands to yourself.”

            “You should make me food,” Sirius said, following me inside. “I’m _famished_.”

 

“I spent an entire hour singlehandedly batting the Houles—” Sirius held up his grilled cheese. “And this is the best you have to offer me.”

            Propping my head up, I replied, “I live at James’ mercy at the moment. I have to make things last.”

            “I’ll tell him you need more cash—”

            “You’ll do no such thing. It’s enough that he keeps me in this flat. I have some pride, Padfoot.”

            “Pride is overrated. I lived with the Potters two years and never had a moment’s doubt.”

            “That’s because you’re rich, and spoiled, and you expect the world to be handed to you,” I said with no animosity.

            “It should. I deserve it.” He gave me a wink, and I rolled my eyes, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. Sirius sniffed at the sandwich, much like a dog, then asked, “What have you been up to? Every time I drop by, you’re not in.”

            “Helping Alice and Frank mostly. I go on errands when Dumbledore asks. You know, even Aberforth came down to the city.”

            “Did he ride a goat here?”

            “He did, actually. Poor thing was so dehydrated. I tried to talk to him about it, but you know Aberforth. Stubborn.”

            Sirius smirked, taking a bite. “This last Friday I was by.” He looked at me from under his brows. “You told Dumbledore you’d be here on Friday.”

            “I went to the library,” I lied. “The Muggle library. If we’re all going to die, I might as well reread _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ ”

            “We’re not going to die, you sad sack. I’m too attractive to die young, and you’re—well, you have a face.”

            I threw a napkin at him, trying not to laugh. “Piss off.”

            “What’s this book about, then?”

            “Oh, you’d hate it. It’s about a young man who’s so beautiful that everyone adores him, even with all the boundaries he pushes.”

            “He doesn’t sound all that bad.”

            “Someone paints his portrait, except it’s a magic portrait. For every terrible thing he does, the portrait ages, while he never does. No one suspects that this beautiful man could be capable of anything wrong, while he has this portrait hidden away of this shrivelled, hateful, ugly soul. It’s a horror story, really.” Sirius was giving me a hard look. “What?”

            “This is what you want to read when you think you’re about to die?”

            “I want to read all the classics. I think I might get into _Les Miserables_ next.”

            “You want to read something about the Miserables?” Sirius said in disbelief. “Do Muggles not have any happy books out there?”

            “They do. But the classics tend to be tragedies.”

            “Fuck tragedies. We’re going to fight, we’re going to win, and we’re all going to live happily ever after. There. Sorted!” He tore off a chunk of sandwich and popped it in his mouth.

            “If we could all have your optimism.”

            “I refuse to let you be a martyr. I’ll spite you and Dumbledore. If anyone lives forever, it should be you.”

            “Hush. Hey—when you see James, make sure he understands how careful he has to be about their location, will you?”

            Going still, Sirius said, “Why?”

            “On the phone just now, he let slip that they were in a house. And I know that’s not the largest of details, but I’m clever enough that I know all the possible places they could go, and if he keeps handing out scraps, someone will put it together. If you have to, take it to Lily.”

            “He only said it was a house, Remus. It’s not the end of the world.”

            “You both need to take this seriously—”

            “You think we don’t?” Sirius suddenly snapped. “His son, my godson, you think we’re not taking his safety seriously?”

            I pressed my lips together. Sirius was still glaring at me. “If you want to be irritated with me, that’s all well and good, but you both need to be very careful—”

            “We know that. _We_ both have plenty to lose.”

            The implication was clear. They did. I didn’t.

            “Since you asked,” I said, “my mother’s not doing very well at all. She’s still in hospital. Father thinks there’s hope, but the cancer’s causing seizures now. All the magic in the world, and it’s nothing against these little tendrils of tumor.”

            That had put Sirius in his place. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it—”

            “No, you didn’t ask because you think there’s far more important things than my mother dying. Even if there weren’t, you’d be too uncomfortable with the topic. You’ve never really seen the point in mothers.”

            “Look—are we just going to sit around poking at one another’s wounds?”

            “We don’t have to. I’m happy to see you, and I’d prefer we didn’t. But I’ve never lied to you before and I don’t mean to now that the world’s ending—”

            Sirius laughed. A single bark.

            I gazed at him. “Something you’d like to say?”

            “No,” he shrugged.

            I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to sit with me and tell me stories. I wanted to keep him.

            Pushing back my chair, I got to my feet. “Well. I know you must be in a rush to find Peter. Next time you’re by, owl first. We’ll go to Saxena’s.” I was able to register the surprise on his face before I went to open the front door.

            I waited for him to join me. It took him a moment, but Sirius came around the corner, brushing crumbs off his hands. “I should be finding Peter,” he murmured.          

            “Yeah. Tell everyone hello from me. I probably won’t be in contact until James comes down next week. Maybe we should see about doing something together. The four of us.”

            “Like old times.”

            “Mm.”

            If Sirius wanted to be mean, if he wanted to be paranoid, he could come back another time. There was too much in the world going on for me to put up with his shit. He jostled his foot, then said, “I’m off then.”

            “Bye for now.”

            He gazed at me, then walked out the door. I shut it after him, shaking my head.

            I went where I went. It was no one’s business but my own. They could all ask questions, but I was under no obligation to tell them where I went when I was alone. Sirius would get it through his head, sooner or later, and come back, tail between his legs.

            I had nearly made the kitchen when he was back, rapping loudly on the door. I let him stew a few seconds, listening to how frantic his knocking was. Let him think about this the next time he wanted to be invasive.

            Sighing, I went to open the door. He was my best friend. I’d always answer when he called.

            Sirius stood outside, gazing right at me. He straightened his shoulders and said, “Here’s the thing, Remus. You’re the love of my life. I don’t particularly care if you want to pretend you like girls or that you don’t fancy me, because I know that’s bollocks. Every time I have to think about you—out there, away from me, I feel like I might lose my mind, because if I did lose you, there would be no reason for me to go on. So if I’m a bit snippy sometimes, I would appreciate some latitude. And once we’ve defeated that noseless prick and his merry men, you and I are going to sit down and hash this out, whether you like it or not. This time, I’m not going to take no for an answer, so you should be prepared for that.”

            He nodded, once, then made to turn away.

            I grabbed him.

            My hand snagged on one of his pendants. He stopped, raising a brow at me. Biting my lip, I reached higher, pulling him inside by his chains. I was helpless. I had told him no before, but this time—the world was ending. How could I say no?

            His grey eyes flashed, and Sirius came at me the way he had three years before, only this time when his lips took mine, I tangled my fingers in his hair and opened to him in a way I’d never allowed myself with another living soul.

            We staggered backwards into the flat, kissing, grabbing one another, and I could feel his smile against my mouth.

            “Wolf,” he said, kissing my face. “Wolf.”

            I moaned. Sirius Black. The man of my dreams. My best friend. My favourite. The world was ending, and he’d chosen me. Of all people, he chose _me_.

            “I love you,” Sirius whispered. “I love you, I love you.”

            My affection for him was overwhelming. I could have filled a library’s worth of pages with the words I’d need to describe my love of this man. I clung to him, unable to tell him all I wanted to say. All I could do was kiss him, and love him back.

            Someone said in alarm, “Oh my!”

            We broke apart. Or rather, I jumped back, and Sirius kept a hand on me, looking over his shoulder with disinterest.

            Averting her eyes, Alice said from the front walk, “Remus, I don’t suppose I left Neville’s nappy bag here, did I?”

            Clearing my throat, I said, “Not that I’ve seen, Alice.”

            She looked up at the sky, as flushed as I was. “I’ll just have another look around the office.”

            “Hello Alice,” Sirius said, amused.

            She waved once, desperately interested in the cloud formations. “Lovely seeing you, Sirius.” She stepped back, then said, “Carry on.”

            She apparated away with a tremendous crack.

            Sirius was laughing. I had my face in my hands. “Fucking disastrous,” I muttered.

            Only Sirius put a finger beneath my chin, lifting my head. “Precious,” he argued, giving me a soft kiss to the cheek. He put his forehead against mine, forcing my gaze.

            I closed my eyes. I just stood there, breathing his scent, sensing him. Revelling in this thing I’d wanted so long and so desperately. It was all I could do not to wrap my arms around him and refuse to ever let him free.  

            Sirius put his hands to my face, rubbing his thumbs over my cheeks. “I should go. Right now. Otherwise I will take you to bed and never leave it. But I really do need to find Peter.”

            Inhaling, I met his eyes. “If you must.”

            “Once I’m finished, I’ll come back here.”

            “And you’ll tell me what’s really going on with Peter.”

            Sirius paused, then said, “If you’ll tell me where you go when you hide from us all.”

            What did it matter now? “I will.”

            He smiled, crookedly, then gave me one more kiss. Firm, fast, then he was moving away from me. “Love of my bloody life, Remus Lupin!” Sirius called over his shoulder as he walked to his motorbike.           

            I stood in the doorway, beaming. I felt how I imagined normal people must when they’re happy. If I’d taken a few steps, I was convinced I would have walked on the air. I wrapped my arms around myself, watching as he straddled the motorcycle, strapping on his helmet.

            He raised a hand to me, and I did the same to him, and off he roared down the street.

 

He didn’t return that night.

            I spent the next day puttering about the flat, afraid to go anywhere. It was Halloween, and there were all sorts of parties about, ones I had even been invited to, but I stayed home. He said he’d be back when he finished with Peter, and presumably James.

            The later it became, however, the more nervous I got. Not that anything had happened to him, no. I worried that he’d changed his mind. All the old doubts came back to me.

            He had only done this because Ragnarok was at our doorstep. Nothing to lose when the Dark Lord came to kill us all. No one would be able to spread rumours if we were all dead.

            I told myself I was being too harsh. Sirius wouldn’t do that to me. We were best mates. He knew what it would do to me if it wasn’t meant. And it had been meant. Of that I was certain. The way he spoke to me, the stubbornness, the swagger. He meant it all.

            Sirius, the brightest star in my sky.

            At last, I went to bed, reasoning that he must be busy. We were at war, and war didn’t stop because two young men were in love.

            _We are in love_ , I thought. Not _I am in love_ , which I had been with Sirius for as long as I could remember. _We_. The story was about _us_ instead of _me_.

            For the first time in a long time, I chose hope. I chose the bright side instead of reality. I looked at my second chance and sunk my fingers into it.

 

A loud knocking woke me in the wee hours.

            Immediately, I thought it was Sirius. But the moment I sat up and really listened, I knew it wasn’t him. If it had been Sirius, he would have been yelling my name. If I wasn’t at the door approximately two seconds after I knocked, Sirius would bellow, “Moony!” at the top of his lungs.

            I sat there, and dread quickly claimed hold of me.

            The middle of the night. A stranger knocking. It meant one of two things. I had been found—or someone I loved was dead.

            _It’s him, it’s Sirius, he’s dead, he’s dead because you thought you could have him and you cursed him, you’re cursed, you curse everything you touch_ —

            The knock came yet again, only this time a voice accompanied it. “Remus—Remus, it’s Alice.”

            Alice.

            I was out of bed in a moment, snatching up my wand as I went. When I stepped into the hallway, I could see her outline in the window of the front door.

            “What sound does a cat make?” I called out.

            “What?” I raised my wand, preparing to fire at the imposter, when Alice said, “Oh—it barks! Cats—they bark, Remus. Like puppy dogs.”

            Her voice caught, and I knew the worst had happened. I strode to the door, opening it wide.

            Alice stood before me in her Auror robes. It was a dark night, but I could see the strain on her face. I could see that she was trying to be brave. This was Alice Longbottom, one of the greatest living Aurors. She never had to try to be brave.

            “Frank and Neville,” I said first, ready to go to battle the second she asked me to.

            She shut her eyes, pained. “No,” she breathed. “No, they’re—they’re both fine.” Alice set her jaw and looked up at me. “Remus—I have the best news. And I have the worst as well. I’ll tell you the best first, because I don’t know that you’ll hear a word out of my mouth after I tell you the bad.”

            I put a hand to the doorframe. Alice was not given to dramatics.

            Why was she here, if the news was so terrible? Why not one of my Marauders?

            _He’s dead. He’s dead, Sirius is dead, he’s dead_ —

            “Voldemort is dead,” Alice told me.

            There was nothing that could have shocked me more. I could only stare at her when she told me. I didn’t smile, I didn’t cheer—I simply couldn’t understand what she was saying. Voldemort—dead? He was unstoppable. I knew that I would die fighting Voldemort. We all would.

            “He’s dead, Remus. And Harry—” My heart seized. Alice gave the smallest, tightest of smiles. “Harry’s alive.”

            I finally reacted. “Oh thank God.” I leaned forward, opening my mouth wide.

            Our Harry. First of the second generation of Marauders. All our hope, in one small boy.

            Why didn’t she look happy? This was happy news, this was—yes, this was the best of news! And Alice Longbottom—she had a face that was always on the verge of smiling. Why was she not smiling?

            “Remus.” Alice tucked her hair back behind her ears, and I saw that her hands were scratched and scabbed. Now that I was looking closer, I could tell her robes were dirty. She hadn’t been in a fight, but she had been in something. She pulled in a breath and told me, “I’ve come from Godric’s Hollow.”

            For the second time in less than a minute, my world no longer made sense.

            Alice started speaking again, and this time she didn’t stop. I think she knew that if she didn’t get it out all at once, she might not be able to.

            “Voldemort went to Godric’s Hollow. He knew where to go. He knew _exactly_ where to go.” Pain and sympathy mixed in her eyes as Alice said to me, “Sirius told him where the house was. And Harry’s alive, but James and Lily aren’t. He killed them, Remus. Lily and James are dead.”

            The seconds that followed have been mercifully erased from my memory. What I do recall is that I dropped to my knees. Slowly. Almost purposefully.

            And Alice was right. I didn’t hear a word she said afterwards.


	10. Blood

When Sirius calls my name from outside the flat, I don’t answer.

            I haven’t gotten out of bed. I lie here, my hands beneath the pillow, the blankets up to my shoulders, unmoving. I listen to my best friend calling for me, and I do nothing.

            After a few tries, he stops, and he leaves.

           

There is something wrong with the world.

            I know it. I _knew_ it. It was there, skittering along the edges of my consciousness, but I tried to ignore it. I was so eager to believe that everything was all right. That finally we had reached a point where we were all okay. Except there have been…

            Inconsistencies.           

            My memory hasn’t been the best lately, which is not like me at all. I always remembered everything, which vied neck and neck with my other curses for predominance. For so many years, I was the only one left. It was my responsibility to remember. If not me, then who?

            So many little things have disappeared. Have surprised me. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know that something is.

            And I think that Sirius knows.

            He might not, but—all evidence points to the contrary. Every time I make some slip, he tells me that things are fine. I listen to him because of my guilt. I will never be free of my guilt for what happened to him. I didn’t look closely enough, I didn’t investigate, I was just so shocked by what happened that I caved instead of fighting. Twelve years, I believed what they told me. I’ve tried to make amends for my sins by listening to him. I let him lead, because I don’t know how to ever fix that schism.

            Only things are wrong and he’s been trying to keep me from seeing that for a long time.

            How long? I can’t keep track of the days. The months—what month is it? Christ, I don’t think I know what month it is.

            It’s this sick, wavering feeling. Everything is off its axis. I’ve never felt like this before except in small doses, ever since I moved back to London. Like with Nymphadora a few weeks back, or a few times here and there with Harry. Now it will not stop. The world is grey and sharpish and I stay still because I think I might be ill otherwise.

            When did I move back to London?

            I shudder, turning my face further into the pillow. Reality is…not what it ought to be. I don’t want to believe that the problem is me, but how egotistic is that? To believe everything is wrong except me?

            I could simply be losing my mind. Loony, loony Lupin. I know what it’s like to feel my own mind disappear. This would not be a first. This is far more horrible, though. Every other time, my mind slipped away and something else appears in its place.

            Nothing else is taking my place. I’m just disintegrating piece by piece.

            No. _No_. Sirius knows something is happening. He keeps telling me everything is fine, even when it’s obviously not.

            That’s because he’s my friend and he has never wanted to admit when things were wrong with me or us. He’s always been willing to turn a blind eye.

            Or he knows. He knows.

            If I am not mad already, I will be thinking like this.

           

I force myself up sometime in the afternoon, because I am a middle aged man and hiding in my room is not an option, even if I’m coming apart at the seams. I go to the kitchen because I know I should have something to eat. I am not hungry, but I should eat.

            Toast. At the least I can make toast.

            I drop two pieces of bread in the toaster, then I just stand here, staring at the little machine.

            I thought I was safe. How could I have let myself think I was safe?

            The knock on my door startles me so much that I almost cry out. I grab the kitchen counter to steady myself, nearly biting my tongue.

            From the other side, Sirius says, “Remus? Your neighbour let me in. Are you there?”

            I want him to go away. I don’t want him to tell me everything is fine.

            If I stand here, very still, and very quiet, he will go away, like he did earlier. I curl my fingers, breathing through my nose. Go away, Sirius. Go away.

            There’s another rapping at the door, only softer this time. “Remus?”

            Go away. I don’t want to hear it. Go away.

            The toaster pops and I hiss.

            “Remus, I know you’re in there. What’s going on?”

            Fucking treacherous toaster. Swallowing, I look towards the door. Now that he knows I’m actually here, he’ll be like a dog with a bone. It will be impossible to be rid of him.

            _Do it. Tear that plaster away_.

            He’s still saying my name. I gather my courage and walk across the flat to the front door. It’s locked to him, to everything. I see the door knob try to turn, though, and I am very glad I’m religious about all my locks.

            “Remus, tell me what’s going on—”

            “I’m here,” I say quietly.

            There’s a pause, then Sirius says, “Are you still not feeling well?”

            “I’m not, no.”

            “Let me in, then.”

            “I can’t do that.”

            “Oh Moony, fuck your ridiculous pride, I only want to help—”

            “I can’t let you in.”

            He doesn’t say anything for a moment before asking, “What do you mean, can’t?”

            “I’m not unlocking the door. I’m not letting you in. If I look at you, if you’re in the room, you’ll convince me everything is all right, and it isn’t.”

            When Sirius speaks, he’s calmer, but I can tell he’s concerned and trying not to provoke me. “What is it, mate? You know you can tell me anything. What’s happening?”

            I put my hands to the door. I’m frightened. “Something is wrong with the world.”

            I don’t say anything when he doesn’t reply. Of course he doesn’t answer straight off. He probably thinks I’m insane. He’s going to need more than a few tricks up his sleeve if he thinks he’s going to convince me everything is fine.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Don’t pretend that you don’t see it.”

            “Remus, would you please let me in—”

            “No. I can’t look at you and have you lie to me.”

            “Lie to you—Remus, you’re ill. Please let me inside.”

            “No.”

            “I’m about five seconds from blasting through this door—”

            “I wouldn’t. I’ve always been a more talented wizard than you, Sirius. We both know it. If you try to get into this flat without my permission, the wards will throw you across the street. So don’t.”

            I hear his growl of frustration. “I can’t leave you here like this. Not when you’re—I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what you say.”

            “Tell me that you haven’t noticed. Tell me that everything is normal.”

            “It is! I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

            “How did the war end?”

            “Beg pardon?”

            “How did we win the war?”

            Sirius blusters for a few seconds, then says, “We fought and we won. Harry won. Of course he did, he’s Harry Potter.”

            “But _how_? How did he do it? Tell me how he won.”

            “He killed Voldemort.”

            “How?”

            “This is ridiculous—”

            “You don’t know, do you. You can’t remember. I told you, something is wrong.”

            “The only thing wrong is that you’ve locked yourself in your flat and you sound like a madman. Merlin’s beard, Remus, things are finally going well for the both of us, and you want to imagine some new problem instead of just taking things as they are—”

            “I can’t do that. I can’t, not like you. You wouldn’t understand.”

            “What wouldn’t I understand?”

            “Whenever the choice is between a problem and the easy way out, you’ll choose the latter. I know you’re going to say I do the former just to be contrary, but I’m not. I’ve spent I don’t know how long feeling like everything is off kilter, and I let you convince me that it wasn’t because that would be silly, but it’s not silly at all. It’s the truth.”

            “The truth is that something is wrong with your memory. That’s all it is. I mean—it’s not ideal that there’s a problem with your memory, but we can fix that, we’re wizards, and incidentally, it’s rubbish that you’re a better wizard than I am. Remus, please let me in.”

            “How can you not see it?” I ask in despair. “How can you not see all the flaws?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

            “There’s something wrong with Harry.”

            This time, Sirius’ voice is deadly serious. “What do you mean, there’s something wrong with Harry?”

            “He’s not acting normally.”

            “He’s acting fine, you’re the one off your rocker—”

            “No,” I insist. “He’s not himself, not at all. When we were there, when he and I were alone, the way he was talking—that was not the Harry Potter I knew. He’s nothing like the boy we knew.”

            “That’s because he’s not a boy anymore, he’s a grown man—”

            “He wasn’t the least bit concerned about what would happen to Ginny and the baby if something happened to him. He hadn’t thought about it, wouldn’t even consider it when I brought it up. It was like he was hollow, Sirius. It was horrifying.”

            “He’s brave, is all—”

            “It’s not brave to refuse to think about your son’s future! Only a fool refuses to think about what the world holds for their child, and Harry Potter was no fool! I don’t know who or what that is, but it wasn’t Harry. The fact that you can’t see that—I don’t know what to think, Sirius. I don’t know if you’ve been spelled or if you’re only stubborn, sometimes it’s impossible to tell the two apart—”

            “Harry hasn’t been imperiused. He’s acting the way he’s supposed to—”

            “No! That’s not how a man acts when he’s about to have a child—”

            “How would you know? You have all these ideas about how he’s supposed to act, how James was supposed to—”

            “You just said he was acting as he was supposed to, and you’re telling me I’m fixated on—”

            “James would never have acted any differently than he did, he acted the way Harry did and it’s—it’s appalling, Remus, that you would think they’d be any different. It’s disrespectful. You should know better.”

            Open mouthed, I shake my head at the door. “What on earth…”

            “I know you’re sick, but you shouldn’t be talking like this. Please just let me in so we can make this better.”

            “There is no way in hell I’m letting you through this door. Something is wrong with you too.”

            Sirius cries out, “Of course! Of course there’s something wrong with me, with Harry, with the whole world. Everyone except you, is that it? Remus Lupin, always so bloody superior to everyone else. The issue certainly can’t be you.”

            “You know that’s not me. You know that I have always taken the blame. I know it, I hate it about myself, but if you know me, you know that I can’t let you in.”

            “Are we going to do this again?” Sirius snaps. “Are you going to believe that I’m the villain here? How dare you.”

            I close my eyes. It’s as if he put his hand around my heart and tried to close his fist. “You have to know, you know how much I—”

            “What, that you’re sorry? That you believed them instead of me? You believed that I killed Lily and James. That I killed Peter. Is that what you’re sorry for?”

            This is terrible, and it’s a relief, that the veneer of civility is slipping. “You know how much I hate myself for that, which is why I can’t listen to you now.”

            He bangs a fist against the door, and I shiver, clenching my teeth. “How can you say that to me?”

            “I listened to everyone, even though it was unimaginable, even though it was _you_ , and I was wrong, wasn’t I? I was wrong and you sat in prison for twelve years. Twelve years in Azkaban because I believed when I shouldn’t have. What will happen now if I listen to you, when I know it’s wrong? If I listen to you tell me what I want to hear, how much worse will it get?”

            “How dare you compare the two?! I was innocent, I was waiting for you to tell them, I knew that you, of all people, you’d tell them I couldn’t have done it, but you sent me off, you believed them! After everything, after that _day_ , and I _loved you_ and you let them take me away—”

            “Sirius—”

            “No! That never goes away! It never goes away that you betrayed me, that you thought I was a murderer, you let Peter get away with it, it was you, you were the traitor—”

            Something inside breaks.

            I hit the door. “You thought I was the spy!” That shuts him up a moment. I shake my head, breathing heavily through my nose. “You thought it was me. You want to stand there and say that I let you down? You and James decided to make Peter the secret keeper because you thought I was a Death Eater! You have some cheek going off on me when you turned on me—”

            “How could I have not thought it was you? Always disappearing, never telling anyone where you were, except when you were lying. You’d tell Alice you were with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore you were with Alice, so how could I have not thought—someone was telling Voldemort our secrets, and you were lying to us all—”

            “You bastard. You absolute bastard—”

            “Twenty years later, I still don’t know, you’ve never said, so how was I supposed to know—”

            Bracing my hands against the doorframe, I yell, “You want to know? You want to know where I was every single time you didn’t know where I was?”

            “Yes, I want to bloody well know—”

            “I was fucking every single Muggle man in London that I could get my hands on, and why shouldn’t I! I was twenty-one, it was the end of the world, and the man I was in love with only wanted me as some token of how rebellious he was! So I went out, and found men who looked like you, men who didn’t look like you, and I had _fun_. I acted like the little closet queer I was and devoured the world when the people I loved weren’t looking and I was ashamed and it was mine, it had nothing to do with the war and everything to do with the war, and how can it have never occurred to you? Did it never occur to you that there were other men? Of course it didn’t occur to you, you selfish prick, you’ve spent every single second of our friendship thinking my life revolved around you, no matter how many times I told you that it didn’t! I went out, I found men who weren’t you, and you were so fucking self absorbed and ignorant that you thought I was the spy and you got Lily and James killed for it!”

            “Remus,” Sirius says, his voice small.

            I can’t stop. “ _You_ killed them! You were so fucking blind, and you’ve spent all this time blaming me for it, but it was you, you didn’t trust me and I trusted you, I trusted you and you believed the lie first, so how can you stand there and say it was me? Why should I have trusted you? The only time you told me you loved me, it was all a lie to trick me! You only ever said it because you thought I was a fucking spy, and how could you? HOW COULD YOU?”

            My voice turns from words into a howl.

            My insides are moving. I am changing. It never feels good to change, but this time I need it, I need to change, I need to—

            When was the last time I changed?

            I can’t remember. I haven’t left the city in months.

            I haven’t changed in months.

            I do now.

 

I lie on the floor of a disaster area.

            The flat has been torn to shreds. There are claw marks in the walls, books thrown and ripped apart. One of the bookshelves is smashed to splinters. Blood—my own—marks most of the surfaces.

            It is midday yet. But I turned.

            I have not seen the moon for as long as I can remember. Whenever we came to this place. London. Is this London? How many nights have we walked, and I’ve felt no fear? So very many. I have not tracked the moon calendar. The last time I had that luxury, I was five-years-old.

            The change lasted until I had taken my rage out on the flat. It wasn’t like the other times. Nothing came through me, nothing subsumed me. It was me, only in a different body. I destroyed the flat, then I came to on the floor, wearing nothing but scraps of clothing.

            Sirius is gone. No idea when he left. It’s not like him to leave. I am glad he did, though.

            He can’t argue that nothing is wrong now. I transformed in the middle of the day. That doesn’t happen. It simply doesn’t. Maybe that’s why he fled. He’ll have to concoct a hell of an argument to rationalize this one.

            I run a hand over my chest, staring at the ceiling.           

            It’s raining. Appropriate.

            The first time I felt like this, I was 21 years old. When I wasn’t looking, my entire world shattered and rearranged itself, then demanded I simply keep surviving. Here I am again.

            A spell is the most obvious answer. But no one is powerful enough to spell the world. Are they? Maybe there is someone and I’ve forgotten. Perhaps the spell forced us to forget. What if this is Voldemort’s doing? After all, I can not remember how we won the war.

            What can I remember?

            I remember teaching at Hogwarts. I remember Harry Potter. Brilliant, brave, stubborn Harry. That boy could have never become the man currently wearing his father’s face. Even as a teenage boy, he had more emotional awareness than that golem across town. The man is like someone’s idea of Harry Potter, without any of the complexity. How I missed it for so long is a bewildering embarrassment.

            Pushing myself to sit up, I take a handful of threads still wrapped around my arms, tearing them and dropping them onto a pile of papers. My manuscript has been scattered to the four winds. I find that I have very little concern over that.

            A page near to me says, ‘Werewolves: A brief history. You are a werewolf.’ Yes. Thank you. I certainly needed the reminder.

            I can be snide all I like, but apparently a reminder was required. I’ve forgotten the moon.

            Hogwarts. Harry.

            Sirius. The old guilt returns, fitting into place all too neatly.

            Peter.

            Fucking Peter Pettigrew.

            I climb to my feet, stretching my arms. I’m supposedly a sensible man, and the sensible thing to do would be to repair this room and all I’ve done to it. Instead, I think I will leave it just as it is. It’s difficult to ignore things when they’re broken. Put the surface back together and you can act as if everything has always been all right.

            I go sit on the window sill instead, pulling my legs up beneath myself.

            Peter. I remember Peter. I remember how he tried running with me once when we were thirteen and even though I went as slow as I could, he couldn’t keep up. I remember all the times he tried to strike out on his own to find a new room. He was nearly always caught, but he never gave us up. The few times he did find something, he was so proud. We were all so proud of him. We knew it was hard for him.

            He was a joke, but we loved him. We loved him and I mourned him. Peter broke my heart.

            And he had the gall to ask for mercy. “Mercy,” he said and I want to turn again just thinking about it. Peter, whose death I carried all those years as if it had been by my hand. Blown up, nothing but a finger left behind. That was all we needed to believe it. Blood and a single finger, and I mourned him.

            All those years, I thought he was dead. It took so little. How could I have been so _wrong_ —

 

            _Blood_.

           

            Oh.

            I lift my head, looking around the flat. There is blood everywhere. I’m always rough on myself when I change. There’s so much—rage, and it has to go somewhere, the monster does it to spite me, and I’d rather it be directed at me than anywhere else.

            Peter Pettigrew.

            Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

            Oh.

 

I apparate to Sirius’ doorstep and start knocking about two seconds later. I barely had time to throw on a shirt and trousers and shoes, but I had to come. I have to tell him what’s happened.

            When he’s not there in ten seconds, I start banging my fist against the door.

            I hear him now, yelling, “All right! I’m on my way!”

            Stepping back, I wring my hands. I’m shaking all over. I can’t contain this, I can’t keep this in. I have seen so many things. It’s starting to come back. The world is reforming itself.

            Sirius opens the door, suspicious. “Yes?”

            I push past him before he can stop me. “I’ve sussed it out.”

            I go to the front room, twisting my hands. The walls are covered in drapes and tapestries and it smells like incense. It’s all tidy and well put together and I wonder who’s done that. It’s not Sirius, because he’s always been terrible at staying neat. It’s not him, but I think I know. I know.

            “What are you going on about now?”

            I turn to Sirius. He stands straight shouldered, in his beautiful clothes. Face unlined, grey eyes clear. No greys in his black hair, wavy, falling elegantly off to the side. When we were young, this is how I would have imagined Sirius at this age. I rather think this is how he expected it to be as well.

            “I’ve figured out what happened,” I say.

            Sirius sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Remus, I really don’t care to—”

            “I know what’s happened, and you won’t want to hear it. But it’s the truth. I know it’s the truth beyond a shadow of a doubt. And I’m not leaving until you’ve heard what I have to say.”

            Shaking his head, Sirius ignores me a moment before shrugging. “Fine. What is it you think happened?”

            I tell him, “We didn’t survive the war.”

            Narrowing his eyes, Sirius stares at me.

            More certain of it than anything else in this fantasy world, I tell him, “We didn’t survive the war, Sirius. We died.”


	11. 21 (2)

When I was twenty-one, my universe imploded.

            The morning after Voldemort went to Godric’s Hollow, I stood in front of the destroyed house, unable to believe my eyes. The upper floor had been blown apart. The floor where Lily and James slept. Where Harry had his crib.

            “He didn’t do this,” I said.

            Beside me, Frank cleared his throat. “He was their secret keeper.”

            “Something must have happened. They forced him—”

            “Lupin. You know as well as I do that you can’t torture it out of the secret keeper. You have to say it of your own free will. He told them of his own free will. He’s been the spy all along. I’m sorry, mate, but this is no time for fairy tales. Voldemort’s dead, but Black is on the loose.”

            “We have to find him,” I insisted. “We have to find him and keep him _alive_ , Frank. He’ll have a reason. You don’t know him like I do. We have to find him and Peter. Peter’s at risk—”

            “From what? If Black’s innocent, then what has Peter got to worry about?”

            “We’re all at risk. Voldemort’s dead, but that didn’t just rid the world of Death Eaters. They’re still out there, and I don’t imagine they’re pleased by what’s happened to their master.” I glanced at Frank. “You’re certain they searched all of his house? They found nothing? Not even so much as a rat?”

            “I don’t know about the vermin, Remus, but there was no sign of Peter.”

            I was about to apparate away, to search the house myself. Peter could hide in ways that no one knew about. I wasn’t about to give away his secret to an Auror who could arrest him. I’d find him myself.

            Only Dumbledore emerged from the front door of the blasted house. He stood there a moment, then gestured for me to come with him.

            Everything else fled my mind. Sirius, Peter, the whole lot.

            I opened the gate and went up the front walk.

            Dumbledore stepped aside to let me in. There was no door left. As I stepped into the house of the Potters, what struck me most was how neat it was. The upstairs was a catastrophe, but the main floor—nothing had been touched.

            Voldemort hadn’t needed to tear the place apart. He blew through the door, then he just—walked through the house and did what he did.

            I only got a few steps before turning to Dumbledore. “Harry. Tell me you didn’t take him to that terrible woman.”

            Dumbledore said gravely, “I did.”

            “Why? Why on Earth…”

            “Because he needs to be with his family.”

            “Sirius is his family. Sirius is his godfather.”

            For only the second time I could remember, Dumbledore clearly did not know what to say. He pressed his lips together, then said, “Remus—”

            “He didn’t do this. He would never. Not to them. Not to _Harry_. He loves them, he’s their family. It’s obscene, that everyone thinks he did this. How anyone could ever—they set him up. I know they did. His last name is Black, so how could he be innocent, is that it? No. No, I don’t believe it. Not for a second.”

            “We will do everything in our power to find him.” I started to speak, and Dumbledore forestalled what I was going to say by continuing, “Alive.”

            I relaxed, but then he looked towards a closed door. It led to the kitchen.

            When I spoke, I sounded about ten years old. “Why would you keep them there?”

            “It’s where Rubeus put them. I did not want to move them until you arrived.”

            I stood before the door, feeling as though I should be twisting my hands or on the verge of tears. Instead, my arms hung at my side and I only stared. I reached for the handle, and opened the door.

            Two bodies were on a kitchen table that was too long. Hagrid must have elongated it with his umbrella wand, only he never had the lightest touch. Hagrid never did things in half measures. But the table was large enough to hold the both of them, their forms outlined beneath a blue sheet. They didn’t have white sheets. Lily had always preferred blue.

            I walked to the table, and gingerly pulled the sheet down from their faces.

            It was a small comfort that they did not look distressed, nor injured. It also might have been easier if they had. There were no marks on their faces, no blood. But James’ brown skin had an undertone of grey, and Lily was paler than she ever had been. They did not look like they were sleeping. They only looked dead.

            I studied my friends for a long time. I had seen dead people before, dead people I knew, but none that I had loved.

            I went to James first. I put a hand to his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. Touching his skin didn’t make me afraid. It was only cold.

            “Thank you, Prongs,” I told him. He was still wearing his glasses. Those round, black frames. Gently, I took them off his face and folded them. When I went to put them in my front pocket, Dumbledore made a sound in his throat. I didn’t care. “He won’t need them anymore, Albus.”

            I went to Lily next.

            She was so beautiful. Our Lily.

            Tucking her hair back behind her ear, the way she would have wanted it, I told her, “You were the very best of us all. I will love you until the end of time, Lily. I will love you both until there are no more stars in the sky.”

            Bending down, I kissed her forehead.

            At that, I faltered, because I knew it would be the last time I touched either of them. Straightening, I stepped away from them.

            My friends were dead.

            “Someone will need to plan the funeral,” Dumbledore said.

            I looked at him, dazed. James and Lily’s parents were all dead. Her sister wouldn’t have anything to do with it. “Who?”

            “You, Remus.”

            “No. No, I have to—I have to find Sirius. I have to find _Peter_ —”

            “You need to stay with them,” Dumbledore said softly, inclining his head towards Lily and James. “All the Aurors and all of the Order will be looking for Sirius and Peter. Lily and James need you now.”

            “Peter and Sirius are alive. I can do more for them than Lily and James—”

            “They need their family. Someone who loves them has to be with them. That is you, Remus. More than anyone else. I am asking you…stay with them. I will do everything in my power to find Peter and Sirius. But I need you to stay with Lily and James.”

            I was dumbfounded. I needed to find Sirius. _I_ needed to find him. No one knew him like I knew him. No one knew to look for a dog. No one knew to look for a rat. I was the one best qualified to find them.

            “No,” I told him. “I can’t stay. I have to find him. I’ll—I’ll plan the funeral, but I have to find him. _Them_. I have to find them both. That is not up for negotiation.”

            Dumbledore sighed. I did not know why he was asking me to stay away, but there was no way for him to stop me. “At least go with them to Ted’s first. Will you do that?”

            “Yes. But then I have to go.”

            Dumbledore nodded. “Ted is on his way.”

            I would go with Lily and James to the morgue. But then I would find Sirius.

            I couldn’t lose another friend. I couldn’t lose _him_.

 

I sat on a stool, hands between my knees. Ted was hanging up his overrobes, looking uncommonly somber. One of the things that made Ted such a good undertaker was that he was a very sweet man. People always felt better around him, regardless of the circumstances.

            I couldn’t feel better.

            I was supposed to be looking for my friends. Lily and James were gone. They were lying on two slabs in front of me, getting paler and deader by the second. One Marauder was gone, but there were three of us left, and two of us needed _help_.

            Except Ted told me there were things we needed to go through, that had to be done right away, so I was jittering in my seat, eager to get through everything. I had to leave. I had to find Sirius.

            He hadn’t done this. There was a reason. Of course there was a reason.

            Sirius loved James. He would have never done this on purpose.

            Ted came over to me with two cups of tea. He set one in front of me, then took a seat. He was a big man, with a large belly and thick hands. Nothing about him was dangerous, though. He was more teddy bear than anything.

            “I need to know a few things before I can proceed. Won’t be more than ten minutes.” Ted picked up a quill and a form. I could see a list of questions to be ticked off, with James’ name at the top. “Was James religious?”

            “No. Absolutely not. Neither was Lily.”

            We were speaking about them in the past tense. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, James and I had been on the phone together. I picked up my teacup to have something to hold onto.

            “Did James have any cultural beliefs that would affect things?”

            “No. He was desi, but…as I said, he wasn’t religious. His father was Hindu, he wasn’t.”

            Ted looked at me sympathetically. “Have some tea, Remus. My wife bought it for me.”

            I hated tea. I drank tea because I was English, but I couldn’t stand the stuff. I took a sip to be polite. “How is Andromeda?” I said. It seemed ridiculous. Lily and James were dead, and here I was engaging in small talk. I had to find Sirius.

            “She’s well. And my daughter, she’s a handful. Dora’s a metamorphagus. Light of my life.”

            I’d barely swallowed my tea when I realized it was drugged. I started to droop, and Ted took the cup and saucer out of my hands.

            “Dumbledore doesn’t want Sirius Black coming after you,” Ted said, standing up. He slipped an arm under my knees and around my back as I swiftly lost consciousness. “You’ll be safe with me, lad. Everyone thinks you’ve gone to find Pettigrew. I’ll keep you safe.”

            He was lifting me up as I blacked out, thinking, _I have to find him first_.

 

It was Frank who woke me.

            He jostled me awake, saying my name quietly. I startled upwards, batting at his hands, but he grabbed my wrist, saying, “It’s Frank, Lupin. It’s Frank.”

            I blearily glanced about at my surroundings. I was in a bedroom somewhere, and it was dark. It could have been evening or the middle of the night for all I knew. Whatever time it was, I had obviously lost hours.

            “Fuck Dumbledore _and_ Edward Tonks,” I mumbled. I reached for my wand, but it wasn’t in my pocket. “Where’s—”

            Frank was already holding my wand out. Suspicious, I took it from him, and he pulled a seat up in front of me.

            I swung my legs around the side of the bed, trying to clear the cobwebs from my brain. He looked grim. More bad news, clearly. “What’s happened now?” I asked, fairly certain that nothing could top the day’s events.

            “We have Black. He’s alive. I thought you would want to know that first.” My heart nearly vaulted through my chest in relief. Frank scratched the side of his nose, unable to meet my eyes. “Alice is downstairs. She would have been the one to tell you, but she thought you’d never forgive her if she was the one who had to do this with you twice in one day.”

            “Do what?”

            Frank threaded his fingers together, looking at the floor as he told me. “Sirius killed Peter and twelve Muggles. In full sight of more witnesses than I could count on two hands. Everyone said Peter went after him. Yelling at him for what he’d done to James and Lily. So Sirius blew him up and twelve others. And he just stayed there, laughing. I was the first there, with McEnroe and Schotts. He was just standing there laughing about what he’d done. I’m sorry, Lupin. But he did it. He did it all.”

            “What?”

            Frank looked at me. “Sirius killed Peter, Remus.” I only stared at him. “Remus, do you understand what I’m saying? Peter is dead. Sirius killed him.”

            “No.”

            “I’m sorry, mate. I know it’s not what you want to hear—”

            “It’s a mistake. There’s been a mistake. He wouldn’t have—”

            “He did!” Frank snapped. “I know you were friends, but—twelve strangers! Twelve ordinary, innocent people, and your friends, and Merlin knows who else! You think what you like, but I was there. I was there with all the blood and the screaming—he killed twelve, but there’s Muggles walking around without arms and legs, a boy only a few years older than my Nev who—he did it, Remus! He did everything!”

            I sat there, feeling reality turning inside and out.

            When I was able to speak, I said, “Could I see Alice, please?”

            Frank turned his head and hollered, “Alice!” He put his head down, tapping his thumbs together.

            When Alice came to the doorway, I looked at her. Any questions I had were answered just looking at her.

            “It’s true?” I asked.

            She looked between Frank and I, then nodded.

            After that, I just sort of went through the motions.

 

The funeral was set for four days later. I don’t remember much of it. The service was beautiful. Dumbledore spoke quite eloquently, but that was a given. I sat in the front row, the only remaining member of the quartet. I did not speak at the funeral. I had a hard time forming words.

            Alice and Frank sat on either side of me. Alice held my hand the whole way through. They were my bodyguards at the reception afterwards. They stayed with me until everyone else had gone home.

            “We can stay,” Alice told me. “Nevvie’s with Augusta until tomorrow. We can stay all night if you like.”

            I shook my head. I wanted to get out of my black robes and claw off my own skin. “I think I’m ready to be alone now.”

            Frank shook my hand, and Alice gave me a long hug. Told me they would always be there for me, no matter what.

            Then they went home, and they were tortured by Death Eaters until they lost their minds.

 

Two nights after that, the remaining members of the Order sat around a table at the Boar’s Head in Hogsmeade. No one else was allowed in the pub. Just a handful of battered people who were told we had won.

            We said very little. We all had drinks in front of us. No one touched them much.

            I sat off to the side, feeling about a hundred years old. In the span of a week, everything I knew and loved had been stripped from me.

            It was Arthur Weasley who lifted his glass. “To all the people who sacrificed their lives,” he said, “so our children will never know war.”

            Molly raised her mug. “Frank and Alice,” she whispered.

            “Marlene McKinnon,” someone murmured.

            “Fabian and Gideon.”

            “Caradoc.”

            “Peter Pettigrew,” McGonagall said loudly. We all looked at her. Her thin lips were trembling. “That stupid, brave boy.”

            “James,” Kingsley said.

            I looked across the table at a man I had not seen in years. Severus Snape sat in front of me, looking as gutted as I was. He mouthed Lily’s name.

            I looked down into my cup instead of drinking. I couldn’t toast the dead. Everything was futile. Everything was gone.

            When the room went silent again, and the memories were thick enough to smother us all, I pushed back my chair. I took my overrobes from the back of my chair, putting them over my arm, and glanced at everyone else. They looked back, exhausted, sad.

            I gave them a small nod, then left the pub.

            It was snowing. That November was cold, particularly in the north. I put on my heavy robes. My suitcase was shrunk down in my pocket. The flat back in London had been emptied.

            “Remus.”

            I didn’t look up as Dumbledore joined me. I didn’t say anything either.

            We stood in the snow together, an old man and a young man. I closed my eyes, letting myself be swayed side to side by the wind.

            “It was not your fault, Remus.”

            “Of course it was,” I said without any animus.

            “Sirius made his choices—”

            “I should have known.”

            “None of us saw it. We were all caught unawares.”

            “They’re all dead because of me. Harry’s going to grow up without his parents. Mrs. Pettigrew can’t even bury her son. All she has is a finger in a box.”

            “Peter died bravely. He fought for his friends.”

            “He wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me. Before he died, he came to me and said he didn’t know why he was placed in Gryffindor. I told him he was brave. That he was the most loyal man I ever knew. That if it ever came down to it, he’d know the right thing to do. Peter wasn’t a brave man. He was my friend, but he wasn’t brave, and I didn’t care, I don’t care. Only I convinced him to be brave and he went after Sirius. He should have known better. He should have known better, only he didn’t because I puffed him up, and now he’s dead. Just like everyone else.”

            “He died doing the right thing.”

            “I don’t care. I don’t care that James and Lily died trying to keep Harry safe. I don’t care that Peter’s a hero. I don’t care that Alice and Frank were the best Aurors of their generation. All that matters is that they’re gone.”

            “I know.” I glanced up at him. Dumbledore raised his face to the sky, snowflakes falling on his crescent glasses. “This is not my first war. I daresay it will not be my last. Those on the front lines…victory tastes like bitter herbs. I am sorry, Remus.”

            “Is this how you wanted it to end?”

            “Of course not. But how one wants things to end and how they do rarely align.” Dumbledore turned to me. “Where will you go now?”

            “I’ll help Father with Mother until she dies as well. Then I will disappear.”

            “I beseech you not to do that. You have so much to offer—”

            “I have always been a monster. Now I am a broken monster. That is not hyperbole or melodramatics. I want to be as far from people as possible. I cannot do this again. I will not do this again.”

            “You are stronger than you know.”

            I coughed out a laugh. “Strong. I am many things, but that is not one of them.”

            “I would beg to differ. There’s always a second chance, Remus. A third, a fourth, an eighty second. Don’t lose heart now, or you will most certainly regret it.”

            “I can’t listen to you. If I hadn’t listened to you, I would have found Sirius before he found Peter. Peter would be alive. You will never make me believe it wasn’t my fault. I could have found him first.”

            “You could not have known what he was going to do,” Dumbledore told me.

            Shaking my head, I said, “Yes. I could have. Just before he told Voldemort where James and Lily were…Sirius came to my flat. He said something…did something…he never would have. Never. He only did it so I would be so distracted that I wouldn’t know something was wrong. It worked. I should have known something was wrong, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it, and they’re all dead. Only I’m left. I’m a coward, and a fool, and somehow I’m the last left standing. Tell me how that makes sense.”

            “This will hurt a very long time. This will hurt for the rest of your days. I will not try to convince you otherwise.”

            “I could have found him before he killed all those people,” I said, sick with myself. “I could have stopped him.”

            “Or he could have killed you too.”

            “That would have been better,” I replied, buttoning my robes and preparing to apparate.

            “Will you keep in touch?”

            “I don’t think so. Good luck with the aftermath, Dumbledore. I’m sorry, but I want nothing more to do with…any of this.”

            He stopped me before I could go, a hand on my shoulder. Dumbledore looked into my eyes as he said, “Sirius is being held at the Ministry. There will be no trial, but Crouch is still considering his sentence. The Dementor’s Kiss is the most likely option.”

            I shook my head. “If you have any favours owed to you, and I’m certain you do, you should make sure that’s changed to life in Azkaban.”

            Dumbledore raised a brow. “Even now, you’d show him mercy?”

            In disgust, I said, “No.” I stepped away from Dumbledore’s hand. “If the Dementors get their claws on him, he won’t suffer. He’ll only be empty. I want him to live a _long_ , miserable life, alone with the knowledge of what he did. Can you do that for me? Can you make sure he suffers?”

            I could see that he wanted to say he did not care for that sentiment. But beneath it all, I could tell that he agreed. “I’ll speak to Crouch,” Dumbledore said.

            I nodded, and took two steps away, and apparated away from the remains of my old life.


	12. Promises

Sirius sputters, “What are you babbling about?”

            Threading my fingers through my hair, I try to wrap my head around the dimensions of it. Memories are blossoming in my brain, and I cannot believe I did not see this earlier. It was all there, if I would only reach out my hand and tear away the backdrop.

            “We were killed in the war. The both of us. We’re dead.” Sirius puts his hands to his face, sighing, and I insist, “I’m not insane. It’s there, if only you’d look.”

            “We’re not dead. Things are fine—”

            “They’re not fine. It’s too good to be true, only—only it’s not your nature to see that. When things are good, you believe it because that’s easier. I’m not like that. That’s why I realized before you did, but you would have gotten there eventually. I have to believe that—”

            “You are not making any sense. How could you possibly think—we’re not dead! Things turned out! That’s all it is!”

            “If they did turn out, it wasn’t for us. If you only look around—” I gesture to the room around us. “Who keeps this house clean? Is it Kreacher?”

            Sirius pulls a face, repulsed. “Kreacher? Merlin’s beard, that abomination popped off years ago.”

            “Then who keeps the house clean?”

            Throwing his arms up, Sirius says, “The house just _does_. It’s magic, Remus. We’re wizards, do you not remember that?”

            “It stays clean because it’s what you expect. It’s what you want.” I’m piecing things together as I go along. The ideas are making themselves at the same moment they come out of my mouth. Sirius clearly thinks I’ve lost my mind, for real this time. It’s going to take some effort to convince him. “It’s Peter that made me realize.”

            “Wormtail? What about him?”

            “All those years, we thought he was dead. I thought—I thought he was dead and that you killed him, and that he was a hero, and I _know_ you hate to hear me say that, but that’s how it was for twelve years. That was my reality for twelve years. I believed it utterly. Nothing could have made me believe otherwise. Only it wasn’t true, was it?”

            “What does that have to do with anything?”

            “It’s the opposite now, don’t you see? We believe we’re alive. We are not. The world—” I put a hand out towards a window. “That is a lie. We’re not alive.”

            Sirius pushes a hand over his hair, closing his eyes briefly. “Remus,” he says, trying to be calm, “I know that we had a terrible row, and I said some awful things, and I’m very sorry for that. I understand that you’re upset, that you’re unwell. But I can’t stand here and pretend like you’re making sense. I’m not your friend if I pretend.”

            “How did I just transform?”

            “What? I—I don’t know. Something to do with your being sick. You’ve been out of sorts.”

            “That’s shit and you know it. What’s the one thing everyone knows about werewolves? They need the full moon to transform. It’s four in the afternoon.”

            “I can’t explain it, all right?”

            “I can! The rules don’t apply here. I haven’t transformed in God knows how long because this must be—I don’t know. The afterlife? Some little corner of heaven? I don’t know what it is, but there’s something off about it. It’s uncanny, you must see it.”

            “I see my friend. I see that you’re ill.”

            “It’s you and I. I think it’s you and I here and no one else. Somehow we’ve been locked here together. Everyone else—they’re so perfect. They’re too perfect, it’s not how—” I stop, realizing. I look at Sirius in surprise. “You.”

            Wary, Sirius says, “Me?”

            “It’s your heaven,” I realize.

            Scoffing, Sirius walks off towards the window. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

            I follow him. “Of course this is your heaven. Harry—oh. Sirius.” He stares out the window at the rain, doing his best to ignore me. “He’s exactly how you wanted him to be,” I observe quietly. “Brave. Spitting image of James. Only better.”

            “Don’t,” Sirius snaps.

            “You always had this idea of him—the both of them. The perfect father. Perfect friend. Now Harry. Perfect Auror. Sirius. Please. Perfect is a lie—”

            I try to take his arm, but he slips away from me. Sirius walks away, straightening his jacket. “It’s not perfect. The world isn’t perfect, we’re just happy, so can you not leave well enough alone?”

            “What here isn’t perfect for you?” I challenge.

            “My best friend behaving like a lunatic for one.” Sirius’ eyes brighten, and he says, “James! James and Lily!” I falter. There’s the first real flaw in my argument. He sees that, and stands taller with triumph. “If this was heaven, do you really think James and Lily would be mouldering in some cemetery out in the Hollow?”

            “I can’t explain that. I can’t. Unless…”

            I cannot bring myself to say it. Sirius’ expression darkens. “What,” he says flatly.

            “Perhaps…subconsciously—”

            Sirius roars, “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare suggest that I wouldn’t do everything in my power to have them back! Do you really think I want them dead?”

            “No,” I say quickly. “No, not for a second. Maybe there’s a reason. Maybe the narrative doesn’t work if they’re still here.”

            He’s incensed, and I can’t say I blame him. “The _narrative_? Do you know how bloody cold you sound right now? You are struggling so hard to make things fit your little theory. Your completely _mental_ theory.”

            “I can remember things I couldn’t before. I think accepting what’s happening has made it easier to remember—”

            “False memories. You’re losing the old ones, so you’re making up new!”

            “I’m honestly not.”

            “Fine! What do you remember, if you’re such a genius?”

            “Mad-Eye’s dead,” I say, and Sirius stops. “We’ve been talking about him as if he’s alive, but he’s not. Voldemort killed him. I honestly don’t know that anyone else could have. Alastor was the toughest of us all. Only Voldemort could have done it. It happened when we were moving Harry from his aunt and uncle’s for the last time. Do you not remember that?”

            I finally see a glimmer of fear on Sirius’ face. I hate that I’ve put it there, but something is wrong with this world. There is something wrong if it’s only the two of us. I don’t know how or why, I can’t put my finger on it yet, but I know it, true as anything.

            “Mad-Eye is fine,” Sirius says firmly. “I had him around for drinks just the other week.”

            “You think you did, but you didn’t. He’s dead. We all are.”

            “No! We won the war!”

            “It doesn’t matter if we won the war or not.”

            Aghast, Sirius says, “I beg your pardon?”

            “We’re dead. It doesn’t matter if we won the war or not. We are beyond that, Sirius. We are in a world beyond winning and losing. What happened after we died—it has nothing to do with us.”

            “It has everything to do with us! All the people—the people we lost! The sacrifices, how can you stand there and say it doesn’t matter?”

            “We’re dead. We’re not fighting anymore.”

            “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you—” Sirius turns away from me in disgust, hooking his hands behind his neck.

            I look at the lamp beside the sofa. It’s the one from my flat in London. I’ve never realized that before. The rest of the room…

            The rest of the room is cobbled together from so many familiar places. There are paintings on the walls from Hogwarts. A tapestry Lily gave Sirius for his twentieth birthday. The sofa from his parents’ home. The ceiling is painted the same colours as our dorm room. I see bric-a-brac from rooms we discovered as Marauders, impossibly relocated to Sirius Black’s sitting room.

            He has made this world. It’s all him.

            “Alice,” I murmur. I look at his back, thrown. “Why? You’ve fixed so many things. Saxena’s burned down in 1990; there’s a video store there now. You could make a restaurant, but you left Alice in that hospital. How could you do that?”

            Sirius just shakes his head. “I haven’t done anything.”

            “Of course you wouldn’t have given me Alice. You never gave a shit about Alice. You couldn’t even remember her son’s name. There’s no Neville in this world. You don’t care, so they’re not here. You knew enough about her to remember that she was in the hospital, but that’s it. Christ, Sirius—this is unbelievable! My life—my _death_ , it is not meant to revolve around yours!”

            Turning back around, Sirius says, “I never asked for it to!”

            “That is a damned lie, and you know it. What do we do every single day? We see one another every single day and we do nothing. Nothing of importance. We walk together, and we eat together, and we talk, and that’s because you want it to. That’s what you want.”

            “If you don’t want to be around me, then don’t! Piss off, then.”

            “I _do_ want to be around you, and that’s why I didn’t realize what this was for so long. I say my life wasn’t supposed to revolve around you, but—it has. It always has.”

            I slump at that long-accepted truth. Crossing his arms, Sirius says, “That’s not my bloody problem. It’s not my problem if you’re unhappy, if you need to make up—some _story_ to make things better for yourself.”

            “Where are your tattoos?” I ask.

            Fear flickers across his face again.

            “Where are your grey hairs? The lines on your face? Where are all your scars? You came out of Azkaban a mess, and that’s all just disappeared.”

            “I spelled it away.”

            “You don’t spell away the marks of Azkaban,” I remind him.

            He cringes, and says, “If I made this world, you wouldn’t have those scars across your face.”

            “I’m not something you can control. Not entirely. I’ve had these scars for as long as I can remember. You’ve never seen me without them. I would know something was wrong if they’d gone. I’ve always torn myself up when I changed, except for when the three of you were around me. Today, when I came to, my flat was covered in blood.”

            “You fixed yourself up perfectly—”

            “I didn’t,” I tell him. “I didn’t have a mark on me. The room was covered in blood because that’s what happens when I change, but I don’t think you’d make a world where I could be hurt.”

            “Remus—you are giving me a lot of credit.”

            “Sirius. You have to know. You know this isn’t real, don’t you.”

            He stares at the floor, his jaw set. “It’s real,” he says after a moment, and I want to shake him. “Mad-Eye isn’t dead. We won the war. We won it, and that matters. Harry is a great Auror. He’s going to have a son—”

            “We don’t even know if he survived the war himself.”

            Sirius is about to speak, presumably to bite my head off. Only he raises a hand instead, too livid to even speak, and walks away to the bar in the corner.

            Rubbing my temple, I wait until he’s pouring himself a drink before I ask, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

            “I don’t know what you mean,” Sirius says tightly.

            “Before you died. Do you remember dying—”

            “I don’t have to listen to this shit, Remus—”

            “How old was Harry? How old were _you_? Before you came here, before you woke up here, what do you remember?” He doesn’t reply, lifting the tumbler to his lips. Frustrated, I ask, “Sirius, how old are you now?”

            He does not answer. He doesn’t lower his glass either. From behind him, I can see his hand trembling.

            “I was thirty-eight,” I tell him. “That’s the last time I can remember that seems real. I was thirty-eight when I went into Hogwarts the last time. So you would have been thirty-eight as well. Remember? The last battle. I can see it now—can you see it? The last battle, at Hogwarts, just like it was supposed to be—”

           

            _There’s nothing you can do, Harry…nothing…he’s gone_

            I put a hand to my stomach, shocked, as the memory floods in.

            “Thirty-six,” I whisper. “You were thirty-six.”  

            Sirius stays at the bar, with the glasses we stole from the Boar’s Head when we were fifteen, the glasses his mother threw at him when he left home for the last time. He stands with his head bowed, shoulders rigid.

            “You died before me.” I stare at the back of his head. I remember now. I remember. Struggling to find my voice, I say, “You promised me…when you escaped Azkaban…we promised one another—”

            Slamming the glass down, Sirius pivots, not looking at me. “I need you to stop,” he says, ill. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

            He strides across the room. Stopping before a set of closed green curtains, he puts his hands to his face. Those curtains were in Lily and James’ first flat.

            He died first. The love of my life. I watched him die.

            Trying to get my footing, I say, “I know that you won’t—you won’t want to hear this, that it’s awful to think about, but I need you to face things or we won’t get out of here. It’s only you and I here, Sirius. That means something has gone wrong. Where are our friends? Where are the people we loved? How did we get here? What is this place? We’re dead, and we need to be where our friends are—”

            “We’re not dead!” Sirius yells. He strips off his jacket, throwing it onto an old chair I’m sure was in the Gryffindor common room. “I can’t—please stop, please don’t—”

            “You are not a coward. I know you aren’t, but you’re behaving like one now. You’re being close minded and stubborn and it’s not helping, I need you to listen—”

            “You’re not dead. You’re not—”

            “Antonin Dolohov. That’s who killed me. The siege on Hogwarts. I don’t know if we won or lost because I died before the end. Sirius, we’ll never know what happened if we don’t get out of here. If it matters to you, then don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to know for certain?”

            “I like my life,” he says, more to himself than me. “I have a good life—”

            Irritation rears its head. “What about my life? What about my afterlife? Somehow I’ve gotten stuck in yours, but what about my own? What about the people I love? My parents—Christ, Sirius, I could see my parents. Our friends. Harry, if he’s here. I want to see them. I want to be with them.”

            “Harry just lives down the way—”

            Losing patience, I snap at him, “Stop being so fucking selfish! I am not a pet that you can keep! I am more than your friend! I’m more than the man who’s loved you! I have family and friends and things I wanted to do and things I could still do, and you can’t keep me here!” He does not react, does not move, and my vision blurs with rage. “There is more to me than you, Sirius Black! I won’t stay here, I have to find _my son_!”

            I freeze.

            Sirius looks at me with wide eyes. “What did you just say?”

 

_the first time I touched him_

_the realization that I would have loved him even if he were like me_

 

            The final pieces fall into place. At first, all I can do is moan. It’s a low, chilling thing. I can barely believe it’s coming from me. I seem to be in and outside myself at once, part of me observing from a distance.

            I cannot stay on my feet. I crumple, landing somehow on my knees.

            “I married her,” I say.

            “What?”

            “You were dead and I married her.”

            I sit on the floor of a dead man’s house, in a heaven that is not heaven, and I remember my wife and son. I remember my beautiful, perfect son’s face, and I cannot comprehend how I ever forgot him.

            What father forgets his own son?

            “What are you talking about?” Sirius has gone pale. “Who did you marry?”

            “Dora. I married Dora.”

            Flabbergasted, Sirius stands there with an open mouth. “You married—you married my _cousin_?” I nod, just as stunned as him. A shame I had also forgotten now makes its return.

            Nymphadora Tonks. Forgotten. How could I?

            How _could_ I?

            “How could you?” Sirius whispers. He’s shaking. “After everything…how could you…how could you have done that to me?”

            “I’m so sorry—”

            “I loved you since we were _children_. I loved you when you refused to have me, I loved you when I thought you were about to betray us all, I loved you for _twelve years_! In that place! I loved you when I couldn’t stand to be touched, when all I wanted was to drink and forget and kill someone just to know that someone could hurt as badly as I did, and I loved you when I went through that goddamn Veil and I loved you waiting for you and this? This is what that was worth?”

            “Sirius—”

            The walls turn black. They bleed darkness. All the light in the world drains away, and it is only Sirius and I in a dark place. The wind is rising.

            “How long did you wait before you married her?” When I don’t immediately reply, Sirius shrieks, “How long?!”

            “A year,” I breathe.

            He looks as though I’ve torn out his heart. He stops breathing.

            “Get out,” Sirius says.

            I push myself to my feet. “Sirius, please—”

            He opens his mouth, showing me fangs. “Get _out_ ,” he growls. “Leave. This is mine.” The wind lifts his hair from his face, rattling the paintings on the walls. He turns away from me as the ceiling tears away, revealing a blood red sky. Rain pelts down on my face, and I shiver, watching as Sirius wraps his arms around himself.

            I promised. I made so many promises to so many people, and I broke them all.

            My shame has hurt so many.

            I have been ashamed for so long.

            “Never again,” I say.

            He looks back at me.

            I stand my ground, throwing in my lot. “I was a coward. I was a coward about a lot of things. I said that it was you, that the problem was with you, when it was always me. I knew you loved me, and I pissed it all away because I was scared you’d leave, so I abandoned you. I abandoned you over and over, and I will never do it again.”

            “Get out,” he says.

            I shake my head, raising my voice above the gathering storm. “I love my son. I love him almost more than anything. But I won’t leave you. I’ll stay here. I’ll stay here with you. I’ll forget. Everything. The past, the present. I’ll forget my family—I’ll forget my son. I will stay here, with you. I promised you.”

            Shuddering, Sirius says, “Stop—”

            “ _I_ loved you the most,” I call to him. “I’ve never done the right thing in my life, but I will in death, and you’re here and in front of me, and that’s what matters! The rest will just have to sort itself out, because I won’t leave you! I won’t leave you, Sirius Black! Not ever again!”

            The walls begin to tear themselves apart, and I tell him the same words over and over again as the world dismantles itself. I make this choice. I am ashamed of this choice.

            It is the only choice.

            I won’t leave him. I won’t leave him.

            I wo

                        n’t le

ave hi

            m

                        ev

                                    er


	13. 34

When I was thirty-four, the dead began rising from their graves.

            The day I left Hogwarts, I made the trek to Calais. I knew where Sirius would go. We’d vacationed there, the four of us, between sixth and seventh year, with the Potters. There was an old cottage down the beach that we had remade as a club house.

            It was night by the time I reached the cottage, on my own again, with nothing but the clothes on my back, my suitcase, and a bag of groceries. The last few days had…well, they had been quite a lot.

            There were no lights coming from the cottage, but I could hear movement from inside. When I was within a stone’s throw, the hippogriff let out an awful screech.

            “It’s me,” I called, stopping where I was.

            I waited for Sirius to say something. No words came from the cottage.

            Steeling myself, I walked up to the door and opened it.

            The cottage was coming apart. The ceiling had caved in. That was how Buckbeak had gotten in. The creature sat on his back legs, eyeing me fiercely. I calmly set down my things, then bowed deeply. I looked at the floor, blue black in the night.

            At last, Buckbeak lowered his head. Straightening, I looked around the cottage to find Sirius.

            He was tucked into a corner of the room, knees pulled up to his chest. He was rocking himself in short, sharp little movements. This was only a shade of the man I remembered. He was filthy, grime stuck beneath his nails, worked into the lines on his face. His hair, that he had always been so vain about, fell halfway down his chest, turned into mats, threaded through with grey.

            The scraps of his clothing revealed tattoos running over his arms, his chest, his stomach. It was all in a form of Old English that witches and wizards once used. It marked him as a murderer. As property of Azkaban.

            “Food,” Sirius rasped without looking at me. “Did you bring food?”

            “Yes.” I picked up the bag of groceries, and went to take it to him. Once I was halfway to him, however, he pressed himself against the wall with a keening sound. Stopping, I looked down at the bag, then set it on the ground. I took a few steps backwards, and he bolted forward, grabbing the bag, then retreating back to the corner. The first thing he pulled out was an orange, and he bit into it, rind and all, with a hunger I couldn’t possibly understand.

            It was hard to see him like that. Hard to see him and not obsess about the twelve and a half years that I thought he was a killer. I went to Buckbeak instead, running a hand down his neck. I distracted myself with the hippogriff as the room was filled with desperate sluicing and biting.

            Several minutes passed. I didn’t try to stop him. Didn’t tell him he’d make himself sick. I didn’t have the heart.

            When he finally slowed, Sirius said, “Scissors.”

            “Scissors?” I asked, looking back at him.

            Still chewing, he waved skeletal fingers towards his hair and beard.

            From the way he was shaking, I wasn’t inclined to let him start cutting around his own head. “If it’s all right with you, I can come over there and take care of it for you.”

            He withdrew towards the wall, still unable to meet my eyes. Licking food off his grimy hands, Sirius thought for awhile before giving a single nod.

            “Don’t touch me,” he warned when I came closer.

            “I’ll do my best,” I said, taking out my wand.

            I forced myself to sit down infront of him, even with how he flinched away from me. He smelled atrocious. He had escaped Azkaban eight months earlier, but he had not taken care of himself in the least. Right now, he probably only wanted to be rid of his hair and beard as a disguise and nothing more.

            “Stop it,” Sirius said.

            “Stop what?”

            “Looking at me like I’m a beaten dog.”

            I lifted a hand to the side of his face, not touching him, just trying to keep him in place. “Hold still. I’ll be quick.”

            I carefully shaved the beard off his face. Sirius held himself so still that he nearly vibrated from it. I wondered when the last time was that anyone had been this close to him.

            “Peter?” he asked.

            Shaking my head, I answered, “In the wind.”

            A growl emanated from the back of his throat, and I pulled my wand back a few inches. Sirius’ grey eyes focused on a patch of wall. “Order…of Merlin,” he hissed.

            “We all believed the lie.”

            His eyes suddenly flicked to mine. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I owed him my regret. I owed him my shame for having gotten everything so very wrong.

            “I believed it,” I told him. “I can’t make that right. To tell you that I can would be grotesque. I won’t insult you by saying I could.”

            “On that we are well agreed.”

            I continued shaving away his mustache, gentle with him. “You could have come to me.”

            He barked.

            Cringing, I ran my wand over the contours of his sunken cheeks and sharp bones. “Why didn’t you come to me when you escaped? I was at Hogwarts for eight months and you never tried to find me. I waited, but you never came.”

            “Try and find you. You thought I killed James.”

            “I did. Yes.”

            “I didn’t really think about you at all. What mattered was killing Peter. Even if I convinced you, I thought you’d try to talk me out of it.” Face contorting, Sirius muttered, “We should have killed him when we had the chance—”

            I felt a tug at my insides and had to lower the wand. Putting a hand to my middle, I bore down on the pain.

            “What’s the matter with you?”

            When I could speak, I answered, “Full moon was last night.” I would feel the aftershocks for the next few nights when the moon rose. The creature trying to come back through. Shaking off the rigors, I went back to clearing the last of the scruff off his face.

            Sirius was looking me over, eyes taking in every detail. “You’ve gotten thick,” he said bluntly.

            I glanced down at the small belly I’d acquired over my eight months at Hogwarts. “Apparently that’s what my body does when I finally have enough to eat. I imagine it will disappear now.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I was professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. You know what that means. I lasted a year. I hadn’t planned on any more than that.”

            “Did…Dumbledore sack you? For what we’d done?”

            “No. Severus outed me as a werewolf this morning. Everyone knows now. Everyone finally knows.”

            It was the event I had feared my whole life. Worried and obsessed over. That fear had been my constant companion. Now that it had happened, I was too exhausted to care. Peter and Sirius were back. Literally nothing else mattered.

            Sirius sucked in a breath. “I’ll _kill_ him.”

            “Sirius—”

            “It’s his fault Peter got away, his fault that the Dementors nearly took my soul, _Harry’s_ soul, and now he’s done this to you out of nothing but spite! I’ll tear out his throat—”

            He started to get up, but I put out my hands, keeping him in place. “Sirius! Think about it from his perspective—”

            “His _perspective_ —”

            “He thinks you killed Lily. He doesn’t know any better. He thinks you were the one who killed her.”

            Sirius shrugged. “What does that matter?”

            I sighed, though I was relieved to find pieces of him unchanged. “He loved Lily. I know you hate him. You’ve always hated one another. But he loved Lily with all his heart. We all loved Lily, Sirius. He wants you dead like you want Peter dead. I’m not angry with him. I’m just tired. Sit down, please. Your hair is a catastrophe.”

            He stayed poised to stand for another moment before dropping to the ground.

            Slipping a hand beneath the knotted mess of his hair, I started by shearing large clumps away. “If you mean to disappear on the continent, we need to do something about the tattoos.”

            “You can’t. You can’t spell away the marks of Azkaban. They don’t even disappear if I polyjuice into someone else. That’s the whole point of them.”

            “Ah.”

            “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

            “You’re the first to escape Azkaban in our lifetime. There are many things we don’t know.”

            “Dementors at Hogwarts,” Sirius said, chewing on one of his fingernails. “What was Dumbledore thinking?”

            “He didn’t have much power when it came to that—”

            “ _Power_. It was his doing that kept me imprisoned all these years. I could have had my soul sucked out, but no. Dumbledore said I should suffer. So I did.” He was rocking himself harder and faster, losing track of me. “So I suffered. Don’t believe a word out of Dumbledore’s mouth. He could end all of this if he wanted, he’s the great wizard, so why won’t he? He’s leaving it in the hands of a _child_ , of my godson—” He suddenly pulled his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop looking at me!”

            I sat back, helpless. “All right.”

            We sat in silence for a few minutes, Sirius wrapping his arms around himself, burying his face against his knees. I fidgeted with my wand.

            Face still hidden, Sirius said, “You believed them.”

            It was an accusation that I knew would follow me until the end of my days. “Yes.”

            “You never tried to tell them—you never tried to get to me—” He let out a low, rolling sound of disdain.

            “There were several dozen witnesses who said they saw you kill all those people. And Peter.”

            “You left me all alone. In that place.”

            At a loss, I said, “You were their secret keeper.”

            Sirius stopped rocking. His shoulders drew up higher.

            Running my thumbnail along my wand, I said quietly, “Or we thought you were. Peter…credit to all of you. No one ever would have suspected Peter as the secret keeper. It never even occurred to me until I saw him on the Map.”

            We had told one another we forgave each other, but that was for the benefit of a 13-year-old who was under enough stress as it was. There would be a great deal between us neither forgiven nor forgotten.

            “You thought it was me,” I said, staggered. Sirius flinched away. I swallowed. It was a confirmation of a great many fears I’d harboured since childhood. “They were trying times. People had reason to be suspicious of one another. Still…I can’t help thinking about it. That James and Lily, near to the moment they died, thought I was just another monster. That I had betrayed them. Maybe they even died thinking it. That I somehow convinced Peter to turn. I find that…difficult.” Pushing past my own hurt, I asked, “Do you want me to continue with your hair—”

            “She didn’t know,” Sirius said gruffly.

            “What?”

            Sirius turned his head away from me, trembling.

            When I realized what he meant, I got to my feet, stumbling back a few steps. I knew in that moment it was dangerous to have my wand in my hand, but I was grasping it like a vise.

            “You didn’t tell Lily…that Peter was the secret keeper?” I said, hushed, incensed. “You let her think it was you and you didn’t tell her—none of you told her. Of course you didn’t. You all knew she would have refused. Lily had more sense than the four of us combined, she would have known Peter was the worst possible choice, but you all forged ahead. My God. _James._ ”

            “Moony—”

            It was a name I had not been called since I was a young man, and it was such a sharp shock that I lost my temper. “You want to sit there and accuse me of failing you? You and James—you might as well have killed them yourselves, and you want to act as if you’re innocent—”

            He was on his feet and shoving me before I had time to avoid the blow. “Don’t!” Sirius yelled, strangled. “Me, it was me, it was _my fault_ , but don’t say it was his, it wasn’t his fault—”

            “He endangered all of them! He nearly got Harry killed. He _did_ get Lily killed—”

            “Stop!” Sirius screamed. He pounded his hands against his chest. “Me! It was me! I told them you were the spy, I told them it was you, and Lily wouldn’t believe me! But I convinced James, and it was my idea to make Peter the secret keeper, it was all me, I convinced him not to tell Lily, I told him it was to keep them safe, and I killed them, I killed my best friend—”

            I turned and walked away.

            He had lied to me. I had spent all these years believing that, but I had believed that he was Voldemort’s spy, and that was easier than hearing this. Thinking that he had just been evil—that was relatively clear cut. Hearing that the two men I had loved most in the world thought I was going to betray them, that I was going to kill them, hearing that they had plotted against me to the point where people died, where an infant was nearly slaughtered in his crib—that was far, far worse.

            Sirius lied, and James lied. James, I hated him in that moment, but I could understand. He had a wife and child who he was terrified would die. A man’s no husband or father at all if he won’t do everything in his power to save his family. I could appreciate that manner of madness.

            Sirius had no reason. He targeted me, and he preyed on my feelings for him, and if I had been wiser that day, if I had realized he’d never loved me the way I did him, I would have seen something was wrong. I could have saved them.

            I could have saved them all.

            “Wolf!”

            I stopped in my tracks. His voice was edging on hysteria. I looked back over my shoulder.

            Sirius had his hands up in front of himself, like he didn’t know whether he should be defending himself or holding himself together. His whole body was shaking, his face a misshapen mask.         

            “Wolf—don’t leave me,” Sirius pleaded. “I know you hate me, and I hate you, but please don’t leave me again. Please Remus—please—I can’t be alone—not again—”

            He let out a sob.           

            I hadn’t seen Sirius Black cry since the day I met him. He was dramatic, yes, and always a bit of a performer, but tears were not a thing he would allow himself. Now, though, battered and broken, he stood before me, beginning to weep.

            I forgot everything. I strode back across the cottage to him and gathered him up in my arms.

            Sirius clung to me. Face pressed against my shoulder, I felt his hot, wet tears seaping into my clothing. I could feel his bones as he wept. He was nothing but sharp planes in scraps of cloth, his fingers digging into my flesh.

            Closing my eyes tight, I said, “I won’t leave. I’ve got you, mate. I’ve got you.”

            He let out a howl, and I wanted to throw him away and I wanted to keep him with me always, always.

 

“I need you to promise me something.”

            We were sitting down on the beach, the three of us. Buckbeak on one side of Sirius, me on the other, gazing out at the waves listing beneath the black sky.

            He was wearing nothing but his trousers, even though it was a cold night. When he had calmed down, Sirius was docile enough to let me finish cutting his hair and hit him with several cleaning spells. Only when I finished, he threw the remnants of his shirt aside and walked down to the sand without another word spoken.    

            With all that hair gone, I could see pieces of the old Sirius. But those tattoos—great black ugly things designed to mark him as other. It was difficult to look at them. After twelve and a half years, though, he was clearly accustomed to them.

            Before I could ask what promise he needed from me, Sirius said, “I don’t want to talk about Azkaban. I lived it, and that was…enough. I’ll never have a night without bad dreams for the rest of my life. I’ve been gone from there for months and I still…feel barely human. They killed parts of me in there. I can’t get those parts back. But I’ll tell you every single thing that happened to me there if you promise to never leave me again.”

            I looked over at him.

            Sirius stared into the waves, unblinking. “The only ally I’ve had was that girl’s cat. Beyond that…not another living soul. I was alone in that cell…I didn’t leave that cell. My guards were mutes. I didn’t hear another person’s voice for years. I know I have my…sins. I cannot be forgiven for so many things I have done. But thinking of all of you…you and Harry. Lil. James. I know we cannot be what we were. There’s not enough of me left for that. Only if I have to exist in this world knowing that there wasn’t at least one of you…” He inhaled, drawing himself up straighter. “I will use every trick I have in my arsenal, Moony. I’ll tell you every sad story, every indignity, if you’ll just pity me enough to stay my friend.”

            After a few seconds, I replied, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. We’re still friends. Besides, I already know that you’re pathetic.”

            He glanced at me, startled. A hesitant smile turned up his lips, and I realized it was probably the first time since he was twenty-one that someone had teased him.

            “I’m pleased to hear that. After all, you’d be the expert on the topic.”

            I smiled at him.

            Sirius put his head back down, and I realized that all the years I had spent drifting across the isles, I had still progressed toward something. Sirius had been stuck since he was twenty-one. Tortured. Trapped. What does that do to a man?

            “You have to make me a promise as well,” I told him.

            Sirius let out a soft snort. “I don’t have much to offer, Remus,” he said quietly.

            “We’re in this together, you and I. Until the end. We’re the last of the Marauders, you and I. Peter seems to have exempted himself. You and I, we have to fight. We have to help Harry win the war that’s coming. That means you can’t leave either. I don’t mean lying low for awhile. You have to do that or you might as well turn around and walk back to Azkaban right now. I mean that we have to be on the same side. Without secrets. I promise not to leave you, if you promise not to leave me.”

            “You seemed to do all right without me.”

            “I didn’t.  Promise me we’re both in this until the end. Promise not to disappear on me again.”

            Sirius raised his head, looking up at the stars. “Beyond the end,” he told me. “You and me, we’re in this until the bloody universe falls apart.” He sighed. “Last of the Marauders.”

            “Last of the Marauders,” I echoed.

            He turned his head away from me, and reached over for my hand. I let him take it, holding it gently as he tried not to cry again.

            Sirius let me go with a sniff, and I thought to myself, _never again. I will never leave you again_.


	14. Return

I wake with my alarm, from dreams of the waning moon and open spaces. And running. When was the last time I went running?

            I’ve never been the type to just laze around in bed. That being said, I think I’ll stay here a few minutes for a proper lie in. Enjoy the quiet.

            What a small, beautiful miracle. To have no responsibilities. No concerns. I can just stay in this bed and not have to fuss about what is and isn’t being done. The battles have all been fought, the wars all won. I had no idea when I was young that a time would ever come where I could simply…relax.

            So I pull the covers up, smoothing them out, and gaze at the ceiling. My simple white ceiling. All is quiet, and all is well.

 

When I get out of bed, some minutes later, I make my way into the flat, scratching at the stubble aggressively sprouting from my chin. I can shave it after I’ve had some food, then a shower.

            Oh dear. I left my manuscript scattered across the table again. I never mean to leave it around like that. Only I work too late into the night, and I think to myself _, just this once_. With a sigh through my nose, I gather up the pages, laying them into the appropriate piles. I still only have about four lines on Inferi. If I mean to write the definitive book on defense against the dark arts, I’ll need a little more than four lines.

            Once that’s been cleared up, I go to the cupboards. Toast sounds like a capital idea. Maybe some eggs. I’m still unused, after all this time, to having enough to eat. Each day, it comes as a bit of a surprise to have all that I need.

            Putting the frying pan on the burner, I let that warm while I get the proper ingredients. I crack the eggs one handed into the pan and listen to their pleasant sizzle. There’s a window just above the stove. It looks out onto a greyish day with a light drizzle. Much as people might whinge about the weather, I do love a grey day.

            I drop two pieces of bread in the toaster, then get a spatula for the eggs. Whistling softly to myself, I give them a few more moments before flipping them.

            I should write today. I should sit at that table and put my nose to the grindstone and attack that chapter on Inferi. This book will be the work of many years, but it will be the work of decades if I don’t show it some more dedication.

            Poking at the eggs, I look out the window. I have this feeling. Like I’m expecting something.

            It passes. It’s early, and I’m not expecting anyone.

            When the eggs and toast are done, I put them on a plate, and I go to sit with those four lines, struggling to decide where the words will go next.

           

It’s nearly noon when I cannot bear it anymore. I’ve always been good at sitting and working with relatively single minded focus. Only I’m having some trouble with that today. I’ll get through a paragraph—or less—before raising my head to the window. Like I’m waiting for something to strike the pane. Or waiting for the buzzer to ring.

            For pity’s sake. If I’m going to sit here squirming, I might as well do something about it.

            I go to the phone on my wall, picking it up and dialling Sirius’ number from memory. To be honest, his is the only one I know. I don’t have much occasion to call anyone else. There’s a list of restaurants stuck to the fridge to order take away from, but that’s about the extent of it.

            When the phone goes to his answering machine, I frown, but I’m unsurprised. He might pick the phone up one out of every five times I call. I’m the one who insisted he have the phone in his house, the one who hooked it up for him. My flat doesn’t have a fireplace, so it was the only thing that made sense if we wanted to get hold of one another quickly.

            He’ll listen to the messages, though. So after I hear him enunciate stiltingly, “This is Sirius. Leave a message,” I say, “Morning, Padfoot. Just me. Were you and I going to get lunch? I suppose I’m used to you popping around by this point. I know we’ve got Harry and Ginny’s tonight, but if you wanted to get together earlier. Perhaps we could go to Saxena’s, and you could ogle the waitresses. Anyways, give me a shout.”

            I hang up the phone, my nerves settled for the time being.

 

The time being does not last very long.

            It’s not as if I’m getting a great deal completed on my magnum opus. So I push my papers back into their piles, then go find my jacket.

            I like the walk to Sirius’. London has always been a madhouse, but for some reason, the stretch between his and mine is usually quiet. I can hear myself think.

            The sky is cloudy, but not enough for it to rain. It’s breezy and beautiful, and I remember how much I love this city. I never lived in a city until I was an adult. It was too dangerous. I always lived out in the middle of nowhere with my parents. Plenty of space to run around, and low chance of meeting any humans. Living in London, though—I’m able to do that. I’ve control of myself. I don’t worry about hurting anyone. I can just go about my day-to-day like anyone else.

            As I cross an intersection, my gaze is drawn down the street to a mother and her child. She has bright pink hair. The little one in her arms has blue hair. That’s a bold choice. She picks him up, swinging him around.

            Ah well. Bold choice or no. It’s always nice to see a mother who loves her son.

           

I come up the walk to Sirius’ house, hands in my pocket, a bounce to my step. It was a lovely walk. I should do this more, instead of waiting for him to come to me.

            When I reach the door, I reach for the knocker, then stop myself. Mostly to amuse myself, I step back and holler, “Padfoot!”

            See how he likes it for a change.

            There’s no response, so I raise my voice. “Padfoot! Let’s go get some lunch! I’m starved!”

            The bugger. He had better not left without me.

            I go back to the door, tapping the knocker against it a few times. I think he might have done. Taken off without a word to me first. Not that—I mean, he doesn’t belong to me, it’s not like he can’t just go out and about without my permission. It’s only that we see one another every day. I can’t remember the last time I came to see him and couldn’t find him.

            Maybe he has actually gone out without me. I suppose that would be healthy. We don’t need to see one another all the time. It’s just nice, is all.

            One more go.

            I rap on the door with the back of my knuckles. “Sirius? I know you don’t care to pick up the telephone, but this is ridiculous.”

            Nothing.

            Oh well. Maybe I’ll have a walk to the dog park, see if he’s taken himself out—

            I hear movement from inside.

            With a smile, I call, “Slow to start today, are you?”

            It takes another moment, but the door finally opens. Sirius peers out at me.

            Raising my brows, I ask, “Just wake up, did you?” It doesn’t look as though he has. He’s all put together in his navy robes he loves so much, hair perfectly parted on the sides and falling past his chin. Flawless as always. All of him.

            “Yes. Matter of fact.”

            “To be a man of leisure.” I brush past him, not quite meaning to hit his shoulder like I do. For a moment, I wonder if he’s tried to block me from coming in, but that would be silly. Going to the sitting room, I perch on the end of the sofa. “I rang earlier, but I might as well have sent up smoke signals. I’m not sure why I make the effort.”

            Sirius steps into the doorway, adjusting his robes. “Suppose.”

            Frowning, I ask, “Are you feeling all right?”

            “Just tired.” He clears his throat, and asks, “Are you well?”

            What a strange question. “I’m fine. Are you sure you’re all right? You seem a bit—not yourself.”

            “I’m perfectly fine.” He pats his hands together. “Did you want something, or—?”

            “Well, usually it’s you coming to mine to upset the neighbours. I thought it was only fair I take a turn. I thought maybe we could go to Saxena’s, amuse ourselves until it’s time to go see Harry and Ginny. Does that sound like a plan?”

            Sirius says, “It sounds like all my favourite things.”

            “I spoke to Harry on the phone the other day. He says they have some news. Did he say the same thing to you?”

            “No. I’m afraid not.”

            “Ah. Then pretend I didn’t say anything.”

            I expect him to light up. To realize what I did when Harry said those words to me. They must be pregnant. Sirius has wanted the two of them to have children for years. He’ll be overjoyed, I know he will.

            Except he looks at the floor, unblinking.

            Have I done something to upset him? He’s behaving rather oddly.

            “I realize I just barged in,” I say, scratching my brow. “I didn’t consider if you wanted company or not. I might head home until dinner, if you’d rather be alone—”

            “No.” Sirius looks towards the ceiling, sighing. “I want you to stay. I wish you were always here. Remus—I wish…”

            He trails off. Standing up, I ask with concern, “What’s going on?”

            Sirius stands in the doorway a few seconds. Then he sets off across the sitting room. I follow him with my eyes. He’s not moving too quickly, so I’m not precisely alarmed. Something is definitely off, however.

            Sirius goes to a chest of drawers. On top is a black lacquer box that I haven’t noticed before. It’s not unfamiliar. That’s strange. He pauses before it, then lifts off the lid, setting it aside. He reaches inside.

            When he turns back to me, I relax a fraction. He has his wand. Why was it put away in a box?

            Holding it with the tips of his fingers, Sirius says, “Sycamore. Dragon heartstring. Eleven and three quarter inches. Dumbledore had it returned to me after I escaped Azkaban. I loved this wand. But it’s been…a long, long time since I needed it. I haven’t needed it here. If I want something, it’s only a matter of wishing, and it happens. I’m not even sure if it will work here.”

            He aims it at me and says, “ _Petrificus totalis_.”

            I freeze.

            Sirius says, “I’ve known I was dead from the moment I arrived here.”

 

“I have to tell you things, and if I don’t keep you exactly where you are, I don’t know that I’d ever see you again. Or maybe I’ve trapped you here. I hope I haven’t, Remus, but in case…just in case…I need you to stay there while I tell you what’s happened.

            “I remember dying. Or whatever it was that happened to me. I remember the Department of Mysteries, and Bellatrix, and falling through the Veil.

            “Then I was here. Not exactly like this, though. It was quite different when I arrived. Everyone was here. It was as if the war had never happened. James and Lily and all the people we lost. They were here waiting for me. Harry all grown up, married to Ginny. Harry grown up, but knowing his mum and dad, the way he should have. Even Peter was here. He was a rat we kept in a cage over in that corner there, because I hate Peter, but he was my best mate, and I missed that about him. I don’t know, it was complicated.

            “And you were here. The second I saw you, I knew I was dead. All the scars were gone from your face. That wasn’t anything I had ever wanted. I thought your scars made you look dashing, but I knew you hated how people looked at you differently for them. I think I imagined them gone because I knew it would make you happy. In this…dream, this fantasy, everything was the way I had always hoped it would be. I know I’m simple and immature in the things that I want. Everybody happy, everybody near. Like we were all kids in the same dorm room. I could see everyone whenever I wanted. Have adventures. Win. Never lose.

            “When I came here, you were mine. There wasn’t that thing that’s always existed between us. That distance. You’ve held me at arm’s length from the moment we met, because you’ve never thought I was worthy of you. Much as I wanted to argue with you over that, I always knew it was true. I’m selfish. I’m so fucking selfish, Remus, and maybe I would have only hurt you, but when we were young, I would have slain dragons for you, and when I came back, I was too broken to do anything about it, but I have _loved_ you. Here, everything difficult about you and I didn’t exist. I appeared in this place, and everyone said my name, everyone was all smiles, and you came right to me and took my hand and you said to me, ‘Where have you been, love?’ and I knew it was fake because you would never have done that, but I let it happen because I was dead and hadn’t I given enough? Didn’t I deserve some happiness?

            “I had so many happy times in this place. I knew it was an illusion, but it didn’t matter. You always thought I was spoiled and oblivious, and I was, but I’ve suffered through things you couldn’t imagine, and to be here…in this soft, happy place…I was so very happy. Going out drinking with James. His and Lily’s anniversaries. Buying Harry something ridiculous for his birthday. And you. Every day, I spent with you. My life should have been about you, only it wasn’t, so my death has been about you instead, and that was what made me happiest. I bloody married you in this place, Remus. A you that wasn’t you.

            “That went on a long time. Until Harry called us back.

            “We were all here, in this room, and it was my birthday. I had a lot of birthdays here. Everyone was raising their glasses—then I was in the forest. The forest we would explore when we were children. And Harry was about to die. I knew it. I knew it in my bones. And Lily and James were there. Lily and James proper, not this—idealized image I have of them in my mind. I’d forgotten how Lily had that chip in her tooth, or how James walked with that hitch in his step from that old Quidditch injury. And _you_. You were there, with your scars and middle aged and you were so beautiful and you were _dead_.

            “Only I couldn’t worry about any of it. Not in that moment. It was Harry. We were going with Harry to his death, to defeat the Dark Lord. I barely heard a word out of his mouth. I didn’t hear what he said to you, or them. I answered the questions he asked of me. I lied, and told him that it didn’t hurt to die. Maybe it doesn’t hurt, those that die regular. Going through the Veil…I was ripped from the world. I didn’t know if it was going to hurt him, and he was still a boy. He was a man, but he was our boy, he was the son we all should have had and didn’t, and I was so afraid. I was afraid, so I lied and told him it wouldn’t hurt so that he’d be brave.

            “We walked him to the forest, and then he let us go, and before I disappeared, you turned to me, and you reached for me. I tried to grab your hand, but I was pulled back to this place. This fucking place. Not the place where I knew the rest of you would go to. I was back at that stupid birthday party, everyone with their glasses raised, and I could have screamed. I was stuck here, away from you, the real you, the real everyone, and I couldn’t bear it. I was able to pretend for a long time, but having that moment—that moment with the four of you, seeing you all as you were, not this childish dream—it ruined everything.

            “They could all see I was upset, and you—the you without scars—you came over and were trying to calm me down, but having those hands on me that were yours but not yours—this stopped being a fairy tale and became a nightmare instead. The real you was dead, and I was dead, and it was all fake. Except I’m not above it. You’re right about me. When the choice is between what will make me happy and what’s right, I’ll choose the former every time. I lack self awareness, but not to that degree. I was relieved to let—him—comfort me. Even knowing it wasn’t really you. I thought I could just pretend again. I had all this time, even knowing I was dead.

            “Then _you_ arrived.

            “You were here, really here, in this room. You came through. I don’t know how. No one else has. I didn’t even know it was a possibility. You came into this room with all our dead friends and a version of Harry that doesn’t exist, and a man who looked like you but wasn’t you had his arms around me, and of course you didn’t know what to make of it. Except you’re the most level headed man I’ve ever known, and about two seconds after you asked what the fuck was going on, you were telling me that we had to leave. That you’d come to get me. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t where I was supposed to be, that I had to go with you.

            “Everything started to look like it was the set of a play. I could see how it was just—light and shadows. The only real thing here was you and I, and you’d come to get me.

            “Only…I couldn’t leave.

            “I don’t even know if I have to explain to you why I wouldn’t go. You know me better than anyone ever has. I don’t even know if I can leave. This place is…it’s different than where you went. You said everyone was waiting there for us. The real everyone, not what I’d dreamed up here. I went through the Veil, and this is where the Veil goes. A pocket heaven, where all your wishes come true. After however long I had been here…I knew the confines of this place. This place made me happy. There were no uncertainties here. It’s a prison, but…I was a prisoner for a long time, Remus. In the end, it may be all I know how to do.

            “I don’t think that I can leave here, but even if I could. There were so many reasons not to leave this place. I was content here, and it was simple, and I was safe. Those aren’t things I’ve had since I was a child. That and…here I could have you. How awful is that? I would have preferred staying here with a you that wasn’t real, instead of trying to escape this place with a you that’s real. Because here I could have you, and wherever you wanted to try and take me…it would be the same as it’s always been. Even in heaven, I don’t think we would be together, because you would have to want me back, and you don’t trust me enough for that. Nor should you, as I have proved more than abundantly.

            “So I told you no. I told you that even if there were a way, I wouldn’t leave here. You tried to reason with me. You tried everything you could think of, but I wouldn’t have it. I think that you thought there was a window for when we could leave. You could tell something was happening. You thought you were being pulled back, at first. Except then you started to—go a bit funny. This all happened in the span of minutes, Remus. If it had been longer…but it wasn’t, and I was panicking, and you were panicking, and you started to not know where you were. You were confused. I was screaming at you to go. To go back the way you came before something happened to you. You were screaming back. Saying you’d never leave me. That you’d made a promise.

            “Then it all snapped.

            “This world remade itself. We were here and then we were in a park. Everything seemed completely normal. You were a bit vague. You didn’t seem to know how we’d gotten there, only you didn’t mind. I knew it was still you, the real you. You asked me what was happening. And the first thing that came to mind popped out of my mouth. I told you we’d decided to go for a walk. You said you remembered. So we had a walk. I just…I’d missed you terribly, Remus. A false you is no you at all, and I just wanted some time. Before I told you. Before I made you go back.

            “Except I kept you. I don’t know how many years it’s been, only it’s been a long, long time. Far longer than whatever time I had here myself. At first, I did mean to send you back. I knew you’d figure out a way. You’re so clever. Each day, I would say to myself, this is the day. The day you remind him how he came here, the day you help him go on to his reward. But I would see you, and I thought of how I would never see you again if you left here, and I couldn’t bear to do it. So I kept you.

            “The world I’d imagined for myself didn’t work for you. You knew certain things, and if they were different you’d be confused. I couldn’t bear it, and so the world would correct itself. James and Lily disappeared. Harry never knew his parents. Alice and Frank…I know you think I didn’t care about them, but they were there, around the periphery of my world. But you knew something had happened to them, so they couldn’t stay. They went into the hospital. This place made itself so that you would accept the lie. I made it that way. Even if I told myself I wasn’t responsible, I know that I was. I wanted you to be fooled. I wanted you to accept things so that you wouldn’t leave me.

            “You settled. We have had so very many wonderful days together, you and I. There is that distance between us, but thank Merlin there was. If you had trusted me, it would have been so much worse. We’ve had these years together, and they’ve been wonderful. For me. I don’t know what they’ve been for you, because you’ve been under the spell of this place, and I let that happen. Whenever something would feel wrong, I would come up with some reason, and the world would change, and you would settle again. Until this last time.

            “You’re too clever for this place. You’re too clever for me. I think I knew that you would figure it out eventually. That you would need to go back the way you came. But I fooled myself into thinking that I could keep you, and that is sick. That’s not friendship, or love. It’s lies.

            “You’ve been worried your whole life that you’re a monster. Between the two of us, Remus, I wear that mantle, not you. I say that I love you, but I kept you from the people who truly loved you. I love you selfishly, and I would keep you to myself until the end of time. Not the way everyone else would. I made this place into a prison for you, and I’ve kept you captive, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for it. I expect you’ll hate me, and you should.

            “I thought that…that you’d be all right if you stayed with me. That you loved me best, even if you didn’t love me the way I loved you. I made that justification to myself. But it wasn’t true. A year after I died, you married. You had a son. That was what was real to you. You never told me. You forgot. I fucked with your head so terribly that you forgot your own son, and I—am so sorry. Remus, I cannot be forgiven, I know that, but I am so very sorry.

            “I’ve stolen you. I’ve lied to you. I am not your friend, I am your jailer. You need to leave. You need to go on, to where you were supposed to go. They’re waiting for you. Your real friends. Your real family. I love you—or maybe I just think I do. I don’t know if I can say I love you after what I’ve done to you. That will have to be a thing I piece out myself in the eternity I’ll have here.

            “I’m letting you go. You need to be with the people you love most, the people who love you most. I have to let you go. So I am. I am a selfish, selfish man, but I cannot do this to you anymore.

            “Go home, Remus.”

 

He lifts his wand and I have to grab the sofa before I fall flat on my face.

            My heart is pounding.

            “Teddy,” I whisper.

            My boy. My beautiful boy with the changing face. The way his hair would shift when he cried or laughed. The first time I held him. The first time he looked into my eyes.

            My son. My son.

            I lift my eyes and stare at Sirius.

            He only holds my gaze a moment before slipping his wand into his inner pocket. He flexes his jaw and turns away from me.

            “We have to leave this place,” I tell him.

            Sirius lifts a hand to his face, letting out a bitter laugh. “How did I know you would say that?”

            “I’m not mucking about, Sirius. We have to get out of here.”

            “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

            “I bloody well heard you, and we have to go before you lose your nerve and I lose my faculties and my memory again. If you think I’m leaving you here in this place—”

            “It’s what I deserve—”

            “Oh, piss off with this self flagellating nonsense, it doesn’t suit you—”

            “Please go. Please just go, just leave me here—”

            “I am _not_ leaving you anywhere where I can’t inflict some permanent fucking damage on you!” I shout. Sirius looks at me with a start. “If you think I’m just going to disappear without the opportunity to punch you in the teeth, whatever the afterlife version of that is, you’re off your tits! And if you think I would leave you alone in this madhouse, you’re even madder than that!”

            “Didn’t you listen? I imprisoned you!”

            “I heard you and I am _enraged_. But I know you. I know you’re absolutely fucking traumatized and I cannot just be angry at you when I know you don’t have all your marbles.”

            “I am not—I’m not traumatized—”

            “Yes!” I shout. “You are! You’re traumatized by Azkaban, by the war, by dying, by all of it! If you made any good decisions after all that, I would be shocked! I don’t have the time to bloody forgive you for anything right now, but I don’t have the time to hate you either! We _have_ to go.”

            “I can’t.”

            “Then how do you think I can? Do you think I can just snap my fingers and leave? How am I supposed to leave here?”

            “The way you came.”

            “I don’t remember!” I roar. “I don’t know how I got to this insane asylum! How am I supposed to leave when I can’t even remember how—”

            Sirius strides across the room. He walks straight up to the green curtains that hang down one of the walls, the ones that once hung in James and Lily’s house, and he throws them aside.

            “There,” Sirius says, stepping back.

            It’s as if the temperature in the room has fallen ten degrees. The archway in the wall is black as night. The black curtains ripples with an unfelt breeze. There are voices. Nothing distinct, nothing that can be discerned as individual words, but they are calling.

            They call me.

            “You came through there,” Sirius says, moving further away from it. “It’s been there since the day you arrived. Just walk through it, and it will close over again. I’m sure of it.”

            I step closer to the Veil. The whispers…the voices are familiar. I can’t pick out anyone, exactly, but it’s as if I know them.

            I say to Sirius, “You are coming with me.”

            Wrapping his arms around himself, Sirius crosses the room to get away from the Veil. “I’m staying here.”

            “Why? Why in God’s name would you want to stay here all alone? You fall apart when you’re alone.”

            “I like it here. I’m meant to be here.”

            He is being irrational. He’s being stubborn and frightened. He has had so long to think about this, so why can he not give me a better reason than that? “You’re lying to me.”

            “I’m not lying. I’m setting you free, I’m telling you to go—”

            “I’m not leaving you and that’s final!”

            “No! You’re not supposed to be here! You’re supposed to be with the others!”

            “What about you? Do you not want to see them?”

            “Of course I do.”

            Blinking, I say, “You’re lying. You don’t.”

            Sirius bites into his lip, turning away from me.

            I stare at him, then say, “You don’t want to explain yourself. That’s what it is. You’re too afraid to even try because what if they _are_ all waiting for us on the other side. You’d really rather stay here? You’re that frightened?”

            “I can’t leave.”

            “If I can envision a future—maybe thousands of years in the future, where I forgive you for this—do you not think our friends could find it in their hearts to—”

            “To what?” Sirius cries out. “To forgive me?” He points to the Veil. “What, I go through that, and I’m just magically let into heaven, and they’ll be there! The both of them! All of them! Twelve Muggles, wanting to know why I wasn’t quick enough! James, wanting to know why I wasn’t strong enough! Why I couldn’t stay alive long enough to help his son see things through! Lily—” His voice breaks. “Lily—wanting to know why I lied to her! I got her killed, I got them all killed, and they’re all there, and I can’t be there, I can’t, I can’t—”

            I walk across the room to him and jab a finger into his face. “Listen to me.” He’s repeating the same words over and over. So I slap him. The sound is too large for the room. “Enough of this hysteria. I need to find Dora and Teddy. I need to know what happened to them. I can’t stay here. I won’t stay here. But I’m not leaving without you. So move.”

            I grab him by the arm and drag him across the room.

            Sirius digs in his heels before we get to the Veil. “No—it won’t work, it’s for you, I’m not supposed to—”

            “Shut up—”

            “Can’t you hear it? It’s screaming!”

            “It’s calling me! I’m supposed to go through, and you’re coming with me—”

            “I can’t—it doesn’t want me to—”

            “We’re going—”

            “Wolf!” Sirius says.

            I stop pulling at him.

            Sirius looks at me with tired grey eyes. “Wolf,” he repeats. He reaches up, gently putting his hands to my face.

            “We have to go,” I say urgently. “I’ll forget.”

            “I know.” He brushes my hair back from my forehead, and gives me a small smile. “I don’t want you to forget.”

            Sirius shoves me through the Veil.

            I’m flailing backwards, about to drop into empty space, and I know, I _know_ I won’t catch my footing, I can’t stop it, so I swing an arm upwards.

 

            And

            I

            grab

 

I fall into space with a handful of Sirius Black’s hair and I yank him after me.

 

 

 

_he’s screaming_

_i’m screaming but i_

_throw all my limbs around him as_

_we are torn_

_I’m not supposed to let go let go let go of me_

_let me go let go of me_

_i wrap him tight so he cannot escape me_

_i will not let go_

_i will not go anywhere without him_

_take us where_

_we are supposed_

_to go_

_i’m dead i’m not i can’t go back_

_go back go back_

_back_

_back_

_back_

_take us_

_back_

_take us there_

_take us_

_back_

_i remember_

_i remember losing him through this veil_

_never again_

_I promise_

_I promise_

_light_

            _we are compressed_

_we are moved towards_

_something_

_relentless_

_screaming_

_is this where_

_can’t let go_

_oh god_

_is this where_

_hold on_

I hit something hard with a force that nearly breaks my bones.

            There’s someone else. Someone else has fallen with me. We’re all wrapped up in one another, and I have my arms around him tight enough that I’m not sure how he’s able to breathe. Are we fighting? Am I fighting someone? Good heavens, have I been confounded?

            But he lifts his face, and it’s Sirius! Merlin’s beard, am I relieved. Maybe he has some idea what’s going on.

            Only he looks around, and I see the colour drain from his face. Frightened, I follow his gaze instinctively.

            We’re in a large room with not many lights, save from where we’ve dropped. We appear to be on top of a dais, completely alone. I have no idea how we’ve gotten here.

            I look over his shoulder, and what I see nearly stops my heart.

            There is an archway in the middle of the dais. A black curtain hangs from it, swaying with a wind that seems to come from nowhere. The doorway. The Veil.

            We are in the Department of Mysteries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends Part One. There will now be a week long break, and uploads will resume October 19.  
> I am so incredibly grateful to everyone who's made it this far. I know it's an emotional endurance test. Thank you to the folks who have bookmarked, left kudos, and especially those who wrote comments. Please have an excellent week, and try to heal all those bruised hearts. If you ever need to get in touch with me, you can find me at e-sebastian.tumblr.com.


	15. Part Two: 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Part Two! I hope you recovered emotionally, because today is another happy chapter. Yep. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has bookmarked, left kudos, or commented. If I haven't replied to your comment yet, I promise I'll get there as soon as I get some days off. In the meantime, thank you for your patience. 
> 
> Now, let's jump back in. 
> 
> __________

When I was thirty-six years old, I poured all the hangover potions in No. 12 Grimmauld Place down the drain.

            I heard Sirius come down the stairs at half past eleven, cringing at the heavy footfalls. Predictably, as he neared the bottom, his mother’s portrait flew into a tizzy.

            “ _Not only a blood traitor, but a filthy DRUNK—_ ”

            “Shut up, you old hag!” Sirius roared at the portrait. Then I heard him mutter to himself, presumably about the pain he’d given his own head.

            I sat at the table in the kitchen, writing in my notebook. I was keeping a running tally of Death Eaters. What we knew about them, where they were, what they were up to. I’d been up since before seven, unable to get much sleep in that place.

            Sirius slunk into the room, shirtless and rubbing the back of his neck. He had filled out a little in the past two years, but he kept the circles under his eyes. Every spare inch of skin was covered in those hateful tattoos.

            Slipping onto a chair, Sirius crossed his arms on the table. He fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, and with seemingly no malice said, “The sinks smell like elder flower.”

            I shrugged, writing a new notation for Rookwood’s whereabouts. “You want to behave like an idiot, you can suffer the consequences.”

            “It wasn’t that bad.”

            “It’s interesting that you can say that with a straight face. Considering that I doubt you could remember a moment of last night.”

            “You actually poured out every single bottle. Every one.”

            “I did.”

            “You left the liquor.”

            “I don’t see why I should punish the rest of the Order when you’re the one with the issue.”

            “What’s my issue?”

            I raised a brow at him. “Shall I pull out the enumerated list or simply point out whatever is most prevalent in the moment?”

            Sirius sighed, dropping his head. “Moony…” He put his head in his hands, fingers tangling through his hair. There were five greys that curled through the black. I could count them in a single glance. He sat up, leaning back in the chair. “I’m going mad here.”

            “Do you think that I don’t know that?”

            “What are you doing about it?”

            “You are not a child. I don’t need to advocate for you. Besides, if you’re going to make a mess of yourself at every opportunity, then Dumbledore is right. You wouldn’t be of much use.”

            Sirius said nothing for a moment. “I must have been quite the disaster last night.”

            “Do you feel like one?”

            “Undoubtedly.”

            I put my pen down, crossing my arms. I had been staying at Order headquarters whenever I could. The thought of Sirius alone in this grim place was too much. Whenever I did, though, a part of me regretted it.

            “I have to get out of here,” Sirius muttered.

            “Then go. Who’s stopping you?”

            “I want—I want to be useful.”

            “What if that means being patient?”

            He let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’ve always been good at that, haven’t I.”

            “If Dumbledore says there’s a time and a place, then there’s a time and a place. I’m not going to tell you—”

            “That it will be easy. Merlin’s bollocks, you even sound like him.” My cheeks flushed. No one had pointed that out to me before. I realized he was right. Sirius shook his head. “I’m no bloody good here when Harry is out there. Harry’s out on the front lines, and what am I doing about it?”

            “We’ve had this argument before. I’m not having it with you again.”

            Sirius didn’t even seem to hear me. “I should be there. I should be there so when it happens, I can do something—”

            “Listen to yourself.”

            “What?”

            “What do you think Harry’s destiny is?”

            Confused, Sirius shrugged. “Defeat old noseless. Obviously.”

            “No, not—” Frustrated, I held myself tighter. “You want to sling accusations of who sounds more like Dumbledore, I’d take a second look at yourself. Why Harry?”

            “Because—because Voldemort has it out for him, and Harry’s the only one who can put him down.”

            “He is a child.” Sirius scoffed, and I said, “He’s _fifteen_. He’s not a man, he’s a boy, and I could honestly not care less about the established narrative. If everyone thinks that he can defeat Voldemort, and only him, then we’ve all lost our minds. It takes responsibility off our shoulders and puts it on his. How can you sit there and justify that?”

            “You’re not giving him enough credit—”

            “He’s not James. He’s not Lily, or you, or I, or any of us. He’s his own person, and he’s brilliant, and he deserves a life of his own. Not this mess we’ve left. We failed, and everyone’s solution is to let a child pick up the pieces. We’re no better than the Dursleys. Using him for our own devices. At least they kept him in a closet where he couldn’t be murdered.”

            Sirius looked at me and said, “You’re tired.”

            “I’m exhausted.”

            “Harry is fine. He can do this—”

            “He’ll die. What will you do when he dies?”

            “He won’t—”

            “You can’t be that naïve. You of all people can’t believe that life just turns out.”

            “He’s better than we were—”

            “Let’s stop this, shall we? I’m sick to death of the same topics. We never get anywhere. All we accomplish is being irritated with one another.”

            “All right,” Sirius murmured.

            We sat there silently. Like that, I realized that I didn’t know what else to say to him. We only ever discussed the same things, over and over. The war, or the past. We were trapped in those places. I realized I didn’t even know how to talk to him about anything else. I didn’t know what manner of man he was beyond that.

            Propping my head up, I asked him, “Hypothetical.” Sirius gazed at me, pouches beneath his eyes, skin grey. “If Voldemort had never existed. If the war had never happened. What would you have liked to have been?”

            I half expected him to discount the question. Instead, Sirius looked out the window, considering his response. “I never gave it all that much thought.” I nodded. That tracked. “I thought, maybe…”

            “What?”

            Wincing, Sirius said, “Ah, it’s all half forgotten dreams, Remus.”

            “I still want to hear it.”

            “I thought about being an Auror. And I thought about having my own robe shop.”

            “Did you really?” I asked, fascinated.

            Sirius nodded, uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he said, “And you?”

            “Hogwarts professor,” I said without hesitation. “That’s what I wanted to be.”

            “So you got your wish.”

            “For a year. And it was…the best year.” I smiled sadly, then turned it back to him. “Auror or robe maker. Quite the choices.”

            “I was always good in a fight.”

            “You were. Why robe maker, though? I mean—you were the most fashionable of us, of course. But you really contemplated making it a career?”

            Sirius took a long moment before replying. Finally, he shrugged, seeming to let go of whatever reservations he had. “I knew that if I wanted to convince you I was a good choice, I’d need a career. Auror seemed attainable, but I knew I didn’t have to impress you. Not the way I would anyone else. If I made things, though, it would be enough to interest me, and you’d still respect me. That…was the reasoning behind that.”

            Sirius said it all in a way that let me know he recognized we were never meant to be. We were a missed connection, he and I. Ever on the edge. Never quite lining up.

            I wasn’t sure what to say. I knew we would never be together. Not after everything that came before.

            Sirius gave me a crooked smile. “Forgotten dreams,” he said softly.

            Looking at the table, I nodded. Forgotten dreams.

            We both startled when the front door slammed open. We glanced at each other, and jumped to our feet. I grabbed my wand, ready for friend or foe.

            A combination of both flew into view, head snapping to and fro as he searched. Snape stopped in his tracks, gripping his own wand. He was staring at Sirius, and usually, when he saw Sirius, his mouth would curl into a sneer. This time, though, his face flooded with anger.

            And fear.

            “Damn it all,” Snape hissed, lowering his wand.

            “What’s happened?” I asked.

            “Exactly what Dumbledore feared. The Dark Lord has used his connection. The boy thinks they have _you_ ,” Snape said to Sirius.

            “What?” Sirius replied.

            Fists curling, Snape said, “He’s probably halfway to the Department of Mysteries by now.”

            We stood there a moment, shocked.

            Then Sirius took off running, presumably to find a shirt and his wand.

            I looked to Snape. “Dumbledore.”

            “Next on my list,” Snape said, turning to go with a swirl of black robes. He left before I could even thank him.

            Sirius was back downstairs in less than thirty seconds, and we made for the Ministry.

 

What do you say about the moment your existence implodes?

            My life had dilated and contracted so many times that perhaps I should have been prepared for a new cataclysm. I had been mauled by a dark creature as a child. My best friends had been murdered. I discovered one of my dearest friends killed the other, that the third had been falsely imprisoned and I had hated him for no reason for twelve years. My life had been one of the highest highs and lowest lows.

            It would be hubris to think I could prepare for this last, final blow. For me, it was the end.           

            I saw him go through. I was running to the dais, because that was where he was. Where Harry was. I saw it happen. The flash of the wand, the way his body fell. The black, tattered curtains, draping back into place. The absence.

            The absence of him.

            I grabbed Harry before he could go through the Veil. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back as he kicked at the air, screaming.

            “There’s nothing you can do, Harry,” I told him. “Nothing. He’s gone.”

            I said the words even though my heart refused to believe it. I said it to keep us both from jumping through the archway after him.

            Sirius was dead. Not missing. Not locked away.

            Dead. Just dead.

 

I stood in front of the archway.

            I heard the voices calling to me from beyond. They sounded like people I knew, only I couldn’t place exactly who. Ethereal, whispering voices. All the people I loved were in another world now, save a handful.

            _You promised_ , I thought, hollow.

            Everyone was all sorted away. Harry was at Hogwarts. Whisked away by Dumbledore, of course. Eventually he would be sacrificed. Like the rest of us. All the less important pieces cleared away before the inevitable climactic battle.

            There was a curl of rage inside me, so hot and bright it wasn’t human.

            No one even knew. No one knew Sirius wasn’t a killer.

            I waited for him to step back through the Veil. He had to. I lost him once. I was a man accustomed to losing things, but the universe couldn’t possibly take him from me twice. It just couldn’t happen.

            I stood there, a useless, impotent man. I had let this happen.

            Nothing had happened. He couldn’t be dead. He fell through the Veil. That was all. He would come back through. It was all a mistake.

            I knew he wouldn’t. You don’t return from the Veil. I knew it and yet I couldn’t know it.

            “Remus.”

            I looked down the stairs.

            Nymphadora stood at the bottom, hands in the pockets of a dragon skin jacket. Her hair was an uncommonly common shade. She was biting her lower lip, watching me. “Come away from there, would you?”

            I shook my head.

            She sighed, then walked up the steps, keeping a suspicious eye on the archway. She put herself between the Veil and I. “It’s not safe for you to be here.”

            It was not safe anywhere. In that moment, all I wanted was to walk through the Veil. I wanted to die. I wanted this endless suffering to cease. I didn’t care about the war. I didn’t care about Harry, or the world. I only wanted to be finished.

            I’d been cross with him. He’d gotten too drunk again and vomited all over the kitchen floor and he’d screamed at me for sins he couldn’t forgive me for. And I’d resented him for that. So I had been short with him instead of listening. Instead of trying to work things through.

            “Do you want to go somewhere? I know you’re supposed to—I’m sure you’ve got orders. I’ve got orders. But if you want, we can go get a pint. We can get away from this godforsaken place.”

            Orders. Yes, I had orders. I was expected to go on. He had been dead a few hours and I was supposed to move on to the next thing. Like he meant nothing.

            Of course like he meant nothing. I’d never had the courage to say to anyone that he was anything more than a friend. I would not be allowed to mourn him the way he deserved.

            All the stars had fallen from the sky, and I was supposed to be in Glasgow by nightfall.

            A ripple come up through my insides. I felt dull and blanketed, but something inside me was reacting.

            I turned and walked away from the Veil.

 

I apparated onto a field in the east. The property was one of the many places we had lived when I was young. Picking up and leaving every time before the neighbours could suspect that the little boy with the scars on his face wasn’t a boy at all, but a thing.

            The second my feet touched the ground, I began to stagger.

            The sun had set, but the sky was already grey with clouds. The day was bleeding into night by degrees. There were seven days until the full moon.

            I was transforming. It had never happened without the moon before. I hadn’t even thought it was possible. I didn’t really mind it. The pain seemed appropriate.

            I opened my mouth and a sickening groan floated out into the air. Even though it was not the case, it still felt like the first real sound I made in a post-Sirius world, and it was like knocking the lid off Pandora’s box.

            Shaking, I lifted a hand to my chest. Dead. He was dead.

            My boy. My man. Sirius Black.

            That snobbish, difficult child. That entitled prat. The boy who cried our first night away from home, the boy who said to me, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” and who looked so delighted when I declared it the perfect password. The boy who curled up and laid his head in my lap when he was tired of studying for his Potions O.W.L. and dozed off as I hesitantly petted his hair.

            My jaw cracked abruptly, jutting forward, while my fingers burst into claws. I fell to the ground, but pushed myself up, needing to keep going. If I stopped—if I stopped—

            I could see a young man, the most beautiful man, with his shirt ludicrously unbuttoned halfway, laden with too much jewelry, strutting down the street. The way he smiled when he spotted me, raising a hand. How he would sling an arm around my neck and drag me off to some new Muggle restaurant he had discovered.

            Riding on the back of his motorbike. He never put me in the sidecar, never once suggested it. Always, “Hop on and hold tight, Moony.”

            I dropped to the ground as my ankles gave way. I clawed into the earth, pulling myself forward. Head tilting back, I screamed to the sky as my teeth began falling out.

            The haunted alcoholic who was never ready to let me leave for the night. The guilt I felt. Every time I saw his face, it was a reminder of my failing. He couldn’t let me forget it. I could never forgive him for that.

            He went through the Veil. He went through the Veil and I did nothing to stop him.

            I ran my claws down my chest, rending my flesh. I screamed and howled.

            And I changed no more than that. I stayed that way, half man and half monster, alone, destroyed. I mourned Sirius Black where no one could see me.

            I mourned a great many things.

 

And then?

            Well, then I simply got back to work.


	16. Mysteries

I’m so stunned that at first I only stare. I’ve not been back to the Department of Mysteries since—

            Since—

            I look at Sirius, eyes wide. He’s on his back, looking around with an expression somewhere between shock and horror. He’s even in the same clothes, the same clothes he went through the Veil in.

            “Sirius—”

            Before I can say another word, the air is filled with cracks and pops. I instinctively reach for my wand, only it’s not there. I’m completely unarmed as the dais fills with witches and wizards in robes, all with wands pointed directly at us. They are not in Aurors’ robes. I do not know what they are.

            I don’t recognize a single face among them. What’s happened? Who are these people? Are they on our side? What’s happening—

            There’s a final thunderous crack, and a tall, solid figure strides forward. The others make a path for him, and the man’s scar-covered face is drawn in a scowl.

            “What in Godric’s name are you—”

            He freezes, dumbfounded. We stare at one another.

            The man with the battle hardened face under a mop of blond hair says, “Professor Lupin?”

            I think of several ways to reply over the span of a split second. Finally, I reply, “Hello Neville.”

            He lowers his wand several inches, flummoxed. If he thinks he’s confused, I have him beat. This is not the young hero I knew. This is a grown man with burn scars on his hands, the clear authority of whatever this squad is holding us at wand point.

            Before I can react any further, I hear Sirius gasp, then everyone’s wands change direction. I look back as he scrambles to his feet, trying to—

            Trying to throw himself back through the Veil.

            Terrified, I yell, “ _Stop him_!”

            Several people physically throw themselves in front of him, one large woman actually lifting him off his feet. Sirius kicks and screams, reaching out desperately towards the archway.

            “NO!” he screams. “NO! I’m dead! I’m dead! I’M DEAD!”

 

I sit alone in a white room, bright lights overhead. There is a table and a chair that have been magicked out of the floor. My hands are manacled, attached to the table top.

            I’ve been in here quite some time. It likely seems longer since I don’t precisely know what’s happening. I can deduce several things however.

            I have been left in here to see if this is Polyjuice, and they are waiting to see if it wears off.

            Neville was considerably older than last I saw him, with a great deal of clout. Years have passed.

            No one returns through the Veil. We will have caused a panic.

            What I don’t know is how I even _went_ through the Veil in the first place.

            They’ll be watching through the walls. I haven’t fussed, I’ve just sat here. I have concerns over what will happen to us. There will obviously be a great deal of poking and prodding. I’ll be unsurprised if it’s painless.

            What concerns me most is Sirius. He tried to go back through. They separated us almost immediately. What is happening to him? Is he all right?

            He tried to go back through. Has he lost his fucking mind?

            The door begins to unlock. I hear at least six bolts pulling back, then the door swings open.

            A large, imposing woman enters the room. She’s my height, with broad shoulders and a wide face. Her head has been shaved, and one of her scars cuts across a milky, blind eye. She casts me a single, seemingly uninterested glance, then flicks her wand—about the longest I’ve ever seen—at the floor, drawing up a chair across the table from me.

            Sitting down, she leans back, fixing her seeing eye on me. Whoever these people are, they are not working their way up. They sent the boss in first to address the situation.

            “What’s your name?” she asks, her voice slightly accented.

            “Remus Lupin.”

            “And if I told you that was impossible?”

            “I would be unsurprised. The last thing I remember is dying.”

            Her eye narrows slightly.

            “We haven’t met before,” I offer.

            “Jin Dahn.”

            “All right. Where’s Sirius?”

            “Sirius Black is dead.”

            “So was I. We came back through the Veil.”

            “It is not possible to come through the Veil.”

            “Then what are we?”

            “That is still to be determined.”

            “I spent my life studying the dark arts in order to defeat them. I cannot think of a single instance in which a dead man, let alone two, could be raised, fully formed, from the grave. The closest possibility would be the—” I pause. “Stone.”

            She raises an eyebrow. “Stone?” she says flatly.

            “The Resurrection Stone.” I think for a moment, a nervous feeling in my stomach. “That seems familiar, but I’m afraid I’m not sure why.” I lay my hands on the table as much as I can, leaning forward. “I will happily submit to any and all questioning, but I need to know—”

            “You are not in a position to give demands.”

            “I am, in fact. I seem to have been resurrected, and I don’t know of anyone doing that by coming through the Veil. So you are going to need my full cooperation. With that in mind—my wife and son? Where are they? Are they all right?”

            She does not reply immediately.

            “I will answer no questions unless I know where my wife and son are.”

            Dahn considers the request for a moment. “I can offer this. Someone will be here within the next hour who can answer that question for you. Answer my questions in an honest manner, and I will allow you an unlimited amount of time with him.”

            “Why not just tell me yourself?”

            “Because I do not know who or what you are. I will not let anyone through those doors until I believe you are not a threat.”         

            “You think that will only take you an hour?”

            “I am an _excellent_ judge of character,” Dahn says, only it sounds like a threat.

            “Very well.”

           

So I answer every question.

            Her first is an accusatory, “If you’re Remus Lupin, why have you not asked about the status of the war?” To which I easily reply, “We obviously won. Neville Longbottom is alive. He would have fought until he died if the war was lost.”

            She asks minute questions about my upbringing, the details of my family tree, what I felt when my son was born, who I think is dead, who I think is alive. I answer, and I try to remain calm.

            She lets nothing slip about Dora. She lets nothing slip about Teddy.

            What if they didn’t survive? Fear for them is a tight quivering string inside my heart. What if Dahn’s questioning is to get as much information from me as she can before revealing that they’ve been lost? I won’t be much good if that’s the case. I am trying to wall off my terror to keep myself going, but if I discover that after everything, my family is gone, I will have nothing more to say.

            Dora must be all right. She’s a thousand times stronger than I’ve ever been. Fearless, honest. Why she chose me, I could never puzzle it out. It makes no sense for me to have survived and her not.

            Only I have been through two wars, and apparently death, and I know that ‘fair’ is a fantasy.

            Dahn pulls out her wand and asks if she can perform the Imperius curse on me, and I agree, because I’m under no illusion that I can decline.

            How old will Teddy be? Neville is a grown man, so how many years has it been? What have I missed?

            He’ll be okay. My boy will be okay.

            Dahn points her wand at me and says the word, and nothing happens. I wait to feel something, but nothing comes. That is…troublesome. What am I?

            Good heavens, what am I now?

            She seems displeased, and she asks to perform the Cruciatus, and I agree to that too, but again, it’s as if she’s said a nonsense word. Not so much as a tickle. Dahn does not even let out so much as a displeased murmur, just puts her wand away and continues with her questions.

            Am I alive?

            That doesn’t matter. What matters is if they are.

            They must be.

            Voldemort did not hesitate to walk into the Potters’ home with the intention of killing Harry in his crib. What wouldn’t one of his followers do to an infant? The offspring of a dark creature and a blood traitor.

            Focus, Remus. Answer the questions. Do what you have to.

            I tell her what my last memories were. I tell her about the last time I saw Sirius, the day he died. I tell her about the wedding. I tell her what creatures I taught my fifth years about in the short time I was employed at Hogwarts.

            I answer all the questions, no matter how large or how small, and I think about nothing save my family.

            Eventually, Dahn sits back, imperturbable. Without a word, she gets up and walks out the door.

            Before it can close, I break. “My son—”

            The door shuts, and the walls seal over.

 

Some time passes before the door returns.

            This time, when it opens, two people in dark robes walk Sirius in. He’s wearing heavy manacles, twisting against the restraints. He’s cursing his guards terribly as they push him inside, but he stops when he sees me. “Moony, are you all—” The women push him forward, and he snaps, “Get your fucking hands _off_ —”

            “Sirius,” I say. “Be quiet.”

            “Be quiet? That’s what you have to say to me—”

            One of the women draws up a chair from the ground beside me, and Sirius is pushed down onto it, his manacles spelled to the table. Then, to my surprise, the two guards turn and walk out, leaving us alone. The door disappears again.

            I look at Sirius. He seems none the worse for wear. He’s wearing the same robes he was in the last time I saw him. The robes he went through the Veil in. Makes sense. I’m wearing the same clothes I wore when Antonin Dolohov ended my life.

            Sirius has five greys in his hair. I can count them. There are circles under his eyes. I can see his tattoos peaking out from the collar of his shirt, the ends of his sleeves.

            He’s trembling. They’ve put him in manacles, of course he is.

            Taking a deep breath, he looks over at me.

            “Last time I set eyes on you,” I say, “you died. But it doesn’t feel that way.”

            Sirius searches my face. He’s not bothering to be pretend nonchalance, which isn’t like him. I don’t feel desperate, looking at him. If we really had been parted all this time, I’d be sick with relief, seeing his face. Except I feel like no time has passed. I recall his death, yes, and my own, but I don’t feel like we’ve been separated.

            Where have we been? Wherever it was, we were obviously together.

            “What do you remember?” he asks.

            “It’s not exactly clear. I can remember Hogwarts. Dying there. Then there’s—a bit of a grey cloud. I know time has passed, but for the life of me—no pun intended—I can’t recall what transpired. You?”

            “Same. Only I remember—” He jerks his head back over his shoulder. “Being on that bloody dais.”

            “They won’t tell me about Dora and Teddy.”

            “What?”

            I falter a moment, but now is not the time to concern myself with the potential for hurt feelings. “Dora. My wife. Teddy. My son.”

            Sirius looks away from me. I don’t know how I expect him to react.

            “They’re watching us,” he says.

            I follow his gaze. He’s looking straight ahead at the wall. “I know.”

            “Why would they put us in the same room together? Doesn’t that just give us time to get our stories straight, if we were conspiring?”

            I think about it, then answer, “They want to see how we interact. If we were imposters, we could fake it well enough, but it gets harder when it’s more than one person. If it were me, I’d have someone on the other side who knew us both, who knew how we behaved with one another.”

            “Always so bloody clever, Moony,” Sirius mutters, bowing his head.

            “Are you all right?”

            Sirius glances at me incredulously. “Am I all right? What sort of idiotic question—”

            “I’m sorry—”

            “—is that?! I’ve just been spit out from the great beyond! The other side has apparently evicted you and I, and now I am back in this shit stained world, and I am _chained_ to a fucking _table_ , Remus! Do you think I ever, ever wanted to be put back in—”

            Leaning closer to him, I say gently, “Sirius. Take a breath—”

            “Why would I take a breath? I’m fucking dead!”

            “You’re still turning red, which means your blood is pumping, which means your heart is receiving oxygen, which means you’re breathing. Panicking isn’t going to help either of us. If you lash out, they’re going to do worse than attach you to a table, and if they do I’ll have to sort them out, and I’m already having one hell of a day. So let’s just put on our big boy pants and stop being dramatic.”

            “We rise from the dead, and you think I’m being dramatic.”

            “To be honest, Sirius, if you weren’t being dramatic, I would think they sent someone in here disguised as you.”

            “I hate this,” he says desperately.

            “I know you do.”

            “How do I know I’m not dreaming all this? How do I know this isn’t some trick?”

            Lowering my voice, I say beneath my breath, “What does my name mean?”

            After a few seconds, Sirius’ shoulders loosen. He closes his eyes briefly, then gives his head a little nod. Like he’s agreeing to be reasonable. Good. We need to be allied. We’re undead. I don’t know that many people will be on our side. I need him on my side if I’m going to find out what I need to know. He’s of no use to me if he’s acting like an idiot.

            “What next?” Sirius says.

            “That’s the question, isn’t it,” I say grimly.

            “We can’t just be alive again.”

            “No, we can’t. It’s not possible. The only thing capable of returning people from the other side is the Resurrection Stone, and even then people are not as they used to be. I don’t feel unlike myself. Perhaps this is something else. Something new. Maybe it’s temporary. Maybe we’re here for only a short time.”

            “Good.”

            “Why? Do you—do you remember being dead?”

            Sirius stares at the wall and says, “I don’t remember a bloody thing.”

            “Perhaps there’s a reason for our return. Maybe we were needed.”

            He scoffs. “We’re not that important, Remus.”

            “No. I don’t suppose we are.” I shut my eyes.

            “What are you doing?”

            “I’m trying not to panic, you _git_.”

            “Well, don’t you panic. If you panic, I’ll panic.”

            “You have to promise me something.”

            “What?”

            “You won’t try to go through the Veil again.”

            “I won’t promise that.”

            I turn to him in frustration. “Why?”

            Sirius looks back and says, “Dead is dead. We were _done_ , Remus. This is not the place for us.”

            I shake my head, unable to explain it to him. He would never understand.

            Cracks in the wall begin to appear again as a door shapes itself. “Who interrogated you?” I ask.

            “Some idiot. You?”

            “I rather think the head of the Unspeakables.”

            “Why did you get the important one?”

            “I think because I’ve demonstrated that I can be reasonable.”

            “You know what you can do to yourself, Moony? You can get right fucked—”

            The door opens, and we both fall silent.

            The man standing in the doorway is short and slight. He wears simple black robes, well kept. His skin is a light brown that’s gone a bit ashy from lack of sun, and his black hair is cut close to his head. It leaves the scar on his forehead entirely exposed.

            Sirius is the first to react. He tries lunging to his feet, saying eagerly, “ _Harry_ —”

            Startled, Harry steps back, wand immediately in hand.

            Sirius stands there, mouth open. He looks so wounded that I quickly speak up. “It’s all right. Sirius, sit down. He can’t know if it’s you or not. It’s all right, just give him some time.”

            Slumping back into his seat, Sirius stares at Harry with betrayal. “Some welcome,” he says hoarsely.

            The man in the doorway looks between us, tightly gripping his wand.

            “Hello,” I say.

            “Hello,” Harry echoes cautiously.

            Sirius is shaking his head, muttering to himself. “Do you know what I would have done if James stepped in through that door after all this time? I wouldn’t have drawn my wand on him, that’s for damned sure.”

            A second goes by, then Harry says, “Christ. It is you.”

            Something seems to set off in him, and he darts forward, pointing his wand at our manacles. From behind the wall, I hear someone say, “Don’t—”

            “Get these things off them,” Harry says anxiously, flicking his wand and wordlessly snapping the chains from Sirius’ wrists. His eyes are wide, his hands shaking. “Off, get them off—”

            My manacles snap free. I respond by rubbing my wrists, carefully getting to my feet. Sirius stays seated, sulking. That’s fine. That means I can ask questions first.

            “Harry,” I say, “where are Dora and Teddy?”

            He freezes, mouth half open.

            “Where are they?”

            Harry’s mouth opens and closes, a little sound coming out, but no words are formed.

            Am I sitting back down? No. No, I just feel like I’m falling. I’m standing upright, but it’s all just…crumbling.

            “No,” I say. “Not Teddy.”

            Harry comes back to himself a bit, giving his head a shake. “No—no, he’s fine, Remus. He’s fine, he’s with his grandmother, he’s brilliant. But Tonks—” Harry lifts his shoulders, saying helplessly, “She—she died when you did. We found her—we found her next to you.”

            Dora.

            My Dora. My Dora who I failed, and failed, and failed.

            _I’m sorry_ , I tell her, wherever she is.

            Harry’s face is doing something. He drops his eyes, like he can’t bear to look at me. Lips trying to form words, he finally pushes out, “I’m—I’m sorry.” His voice catches, and I forget everything but him. Harry gulps for air as tears rise to his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Remus—I’m sorry—”

            I walk around the table and wrap him in my arms. He clings to me as he begins to weep, pressing his face against my shoulder. He is so small. The boy who saved us all. Now a man.

            He tells me he’s sorry over and over until he can do nothing but sob, and I rest my chin atop his head and say, “It’s all right, son. It’s all right.”

 

It is a strange thing, to sit across the table from Harry Potter. I remember how we all thought he would grow up to be the spitting image of his father. In some ways, he does favour him, but the intervening years have made some alterations. He is not as tall as James was, and James barely struck average height. There is more Lily to Harry’s face than I recall. He has her ears, which maybe I simply never saw before, given that I’ve never seen him with such short hair.

            He no longer wears glasses. He keeps brushing the butt of his palm impatiently against his eyes, embarrassed.

            Sirius sits silently beside me. He hasn’t said a word this whole time. He only looks uncomfortable. Sirius has never been good with tears. In all the years we’ve known one another, I think I only ever saw him weep twice, and once was when we were children. He does not know what to do, so he is doing nothing.

            “How many years has it been?” I broach.

            Harry clears his throat. “Ten,” he answers. He glances at Sirius. “Twelve.”

            “Ten years,” I echo, staggered. “It’s been that long. Teddy…he’ll only be a year away from Hogwarts.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, he’s—so excited to go. Whenever I see him, it’s all he wants to talk about.”

            “The last thing I remember—we were all at Hogwarts. What happened?”

            “We won,” Harry says. He nods, and repeats himself quietly. “We won.”

            “Is he truly gone this time?”

            “Yes.”

            “Greyback?”

            “Dead. Same night as you.”

            I nod, finding that gives me surprisingly little comfort. After a lifetime spent waiting to fight that monster, I feel no relief. I just feel like empty space taking up residence where a great anxiety used to sit. “And you? How are you?”

            Harry lets out a soft laugh. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to—I’ve just pictured this. Sitting down with you—the both of you. Talking about this. Only I thought we’d all be dead when it happened.”

            I nod to Sirius and tell Harry, “Two out of three. You were close enough.”         

            Harry smiles slightly at the gallows humour, but he still doesn’t answer my question. It takes Sirius asking it again. “How are you?” Sirius says warily.

            “I’m all right,” Harry says, and I would find it more believable if he told me he vacations in Gdansk with a Veela. “There’s work and that keeps me right busy.”

            “Auror?” Sirius asks.

            Harry glances at him, coughing out a brief chuckle. “No,” he replies, as though the idea is ludicrous. Even though I remember that’s what he wanted to do when—if—he grew up. “I’ve had enough fighting for a lifetime. I’m, ah—” He looks to me. “I have your old job, actually.”

            I feel the first genuine smile on my face since we arrived here. “You’re teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

            “Five years now. I love it.” At least he seems to mean that.

            “Ginny?” Sirius says.

            Harry looks confused a moment. “What about her?”

            “You two were…close.”

            “Oh. I mean—when we were kids, yeah. I haven’t—Merlin, when was the last time I saw Ginny?” His face takes on a momentarily bleak cast, but he offers a weak smile. “A few years at least.”

            “Anyone special?” I try instead.

            Harry scoffs. “No. No time for that. I have a few hundred impressionable minds to mould 8 months of the year. The other 4, I’m researching or just trying to get some sleep.”

            He seems eager to move away from the topic. I understand. It’s a question I avoided my entire adult life. “Ron and Hermione?” I say instead. “How are they getting on?”

            That shadow crosses Harry’s face again, except this time it settles there. Swallowing, he says, “Ah…Ron’s passed on.”

            “No.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Was it…when I went—?”

            “No, ah…it was five years ago? He was working with George ever since things ended. There was an accident at the shop. Nobody’s fault, just…one of those things.”

            It’s an adult thing to say. An adult thing to experience. The kind of thing a 27-year-old has to say.

            “Poor Molly and Arthur,” I say, thinking of how ready I was to fall back through the Veil at the first hint of something happening to Teddy.

            Harry pauses, then says, “Fred, he, uh…he died same night that you did.”

            “ _Jesus_.”

            “It’s…you know. Not really anything resembling happily ever after. I learned pretty young that wasn’t how things would ever be.”

            “Hermione?” I ask, concerned.

            “Yeah, she’s—working away at the Ministry. Advocating for better treatment of magical creatures. She kind of just focuses on the crusade. She’s…hanging on. The way a lot of us are. I see her…when I get down to London. Summers, mostly.”

            Nodding towards the door, I say, “Neville’s done all right for himself.”

            Harry relaxes a bit. “Yeah. Neville’s always been the most together of us all. He started out in the Aurors, now he’s—well, he’s not allowed to talk about it to me, but you can probably guess, given where you all saw one another.”

            Neville, an Unspeakable. Alice and Frank would be so fucking proud.

            “Neville,” Sirius says, a tad derisively. “An Auror.”

            “Yeah, Neville,” Harry replies, defensively. “Do you not remember him? He’s a zealot.” Sirius looks dubious. “Neville Longbottom. War hero. The man who killed Nagini.”

            This time I really grin. “Did he? Alice would have burst. She and Frank—still in St. Mungo’s?”

            “They are.”

            “Harry, I don’t suppose you have any good news about the world, do you?” I say, only half kidding.

            “I do, of course I do. The world’s fine, it’s just…gone on. There’s no war, there’s just…life.” He rubs a hand over his head. “I can’t believe I’m looking at the both of you.”

            I cross my arms on the table, leaning forward. “Harry,” I say, “do you have any idea what’s happening here?”

            He shakes his head, at a loss. “Not a bloody clue. People don’t come back. I don’t know what the Unspeakables do down here with the Veil, but I know for damned sure they don’t come through. Neville jumped all the way up to Scotland to get me in the middle of class, he was so spooked. Scared the hell out of my class when he burst in. So they’ve never seen this either.” Harry looks at me. “You’ve always been a bit of a mystery, though.”

            Furrowing my brows, I say, “What do you mean?”

            “After you died—we found you and Tonks together. We laid you out together in the Great Hall with…with everyone else. I saw you there, saw you with my own eyes. And then you just disappeared.”

            “I _what_?”

            Harry raises his shoulders, perplexed. “I was outside with Ron and Hermione, then Arthur came running out to get me. No one saw anyone take your body. All of a sudden there was just a space on the floor where your body was. Some people hoped that maybe a mistake had been made. That you were just spelled. I never… I knew you were dead. I knew. I thought maybe someone stole your body for some reason, but all this time, nothing ever happened. Then the both of you pop out through the Veil this morning.” Harry looks between us. “We never had either of your bodies.”

            “We died,” I say with certainty.

            “You most certainly did.”

            “Harry, I cannot remember what happened after Dolohov said those last words. I know _something_ happened, but I couldn’t tell you the particulars. I don’t know about Sirius, but the Unforgivables don’t appear to work on me anymore. Dahn stopped short of _Avada Kedavra_ , but I get the impression that wouldn’t have done much either. I don’t think we’re…entirely alive.”

            He nods, then looks at Sirius. “You’re quiet,” he observes.

            “We’re prisoners,” Sirius says.

            “You are not,” Harry responds, aghast, except Sirius is right. We cannot be allowed out of the building. We will cause a panic. If we could come back, why not the others? The Ministry will not want anyone to know.

            Sirius and I look at one another. I say, “Why us? Why not the others?”

            “I don’t know,” Harry says. “No one knows. But I don’t care what anyone says. You will not be prisoners here. We’ll do all that we can to figure this out, but if anyone tries to keep you anywhere you don’t want to be, I will cause a fucking riot. There are few privileges to being the infamous Harry Potter, but I will use every single one in my arsenal to get you out of here. As for what comes after—” He stops, realizing the enormity of it.

            What could possibly come after?

            I ignore the greater philosophical questions. “I want to see my son.”

            Nodding, Harry says, “Of course you do. Sirius?”

            We both look at him when Sirius does not reply. He’s gazing down at the table, a crease between his brow. I can tell when he’s thinking hard on something.

            Sirius lifts his head and says to Harry, “Whatever Remus wants. Whatever will make him happy.”

            The answer takes me off guard. Sirius has made his hands into tight fists beneath the table. He does not look at me, but I see the grim determination on his face.

            “I guess someone should officially welcome you back to the land of the living,” Harry says. He puts his hands up with a weak smile. “Welcome back.”

            Somehow, this feels like the worst possible outcome, and I don’t even know why.


	17. 36 (2)

When I was thirty-six, I marched Snape through the kitchen door, fingers clenched into the back of his bony arm. He was twisting, trying to escape, but I dragged him away from the rest of the Order.

            Once we were in the kitchen, I threw him off. “Sit down,” I snapped. I spelled the door shut, but when I turned, he was drawing his wand. “ _Expelliarmus_!”

            His wand flew out of his hand, and I snatched it from the air. The bewildered, enraged look on his face didn’t satisfy me. It only disgusted me even more.

            I strode over to him, grabbing him by the collar, and shoved him down onto the nearest seat. “Sit. Down.”

            He sat there, glaring up at me. Trying to sneer, but I didn’t imagine anyone had lain hands on him in a long time. He probably didn’t even know what it felt like.

            Standing over him, holding the wands down at my sides, I said, “If you _ever_ speak to her that way again, I will spell inches off your nose, you miserable old bully—”

            “Hit a sore spot, did I? With your lady friend?”

            “ _Severus_. We are on—the same—side. Why is that so difficult for you?”

            “Sides,” he muttered.

            “Yes, sides. The other one has Voldemort on it—”

            “Don’t say his—”

            “So you’re either on that one or this one, and you might not like the people on this one, but he’s on the other, so could you not be so _cruel_ all the time?”

            “Please. It might entertain you, how she fawns over you constantly, but it’s nauseating—”

            Losing my patience, I said what I never had before. “Is this how Lily would want you to behave?”

            Snape stared up at me. “Don’t you dare,” he rasped.

            “Oh, I’ll dare. The rest of them might have forgotten, but I haven’t. You’re only doing this because of her, and if she’d lived you would be out there with the rest of the Death Eaters this very second. I know you’re not doing this from some deep moral conviction. It’s from guilt, only your guilt is for shit, Severus. Out of fifty things you do, you only really ask yourself for one what Lily would have done.” Repulsed, I threw his wand into his lap. “Take this. I could cut you down regardless.”

            I walked over to the sink, my back to him.

            I had been gone for months. Trying to liaise with the werewolves. I had been back for a few days, but being in Grimmauld Place—without Sirius. Seeing how nothing had changed. Everything had just continued. Everyone carried on.

            I couldn’t throw stones. I had followed orders. I looked forward, not back. If I did, I knew that all I’d see was ruin.

            Breathing heavily, Snape said, “You know nothing.”

            Turning back around, I replied, “I’ve known you for decades, you git. I don’t know you? I don’t know why you do the things you do? It’s all her. It’s always been her. Every single thing you do, all the bad, the few moments of good, it’s all Lily. You want me to prove it? Neville Longbottom.”

            Pulling a face, Snape replied, “What about that simpering idiot—”

            “He was your special project. The second I saw you with him, I knew, he was the one you kicked every time he was down. And why? Because he was born the same day as Harry. His parents pissed off Voldemort as well. So why not them? Why didn’t Voldemort kill the Longbottoms instead of Lily? Does it actually feel good, Severus? Does it feel good to despise children because of what was and wasn’t done to their parents?”

            “Your cheap correspondence school psychology notwithstanding—”

            “What if it _had_ been reversed? Do you think about that? The Longbottoms dead, and Lily in that fucking hospital until the day she died.”

            “I wouldn’t have left her there!”

            “She wasn’t _yours_!” I shouted. He looked away from me, and I rubbed the scars across my nose. “For God’s sake. All this time—do you still think James stole her? How have you rewritten this in your head? She asked _him_ to marry her. Did you forget that?”

            “It doesn’t matter.”

            “Jesus—”

            “At least I’ve stayed loyal!” Severus cried out. “What have you done?”

            “What are you talking about?”

            He let out a bitter laugh. “Please. Your dog is dead six months and you’re halfway to marrying that purple headed halfwit.”

            “She’s being nice, you miserable bastard.”

            “Nice. Do you know, her Patronus has changed? Care to wager a guess what it’s changed to?”

            I leaned back against the counter. I was suddenly exhausted. “Severus. Have you ever done a kind thing in your life?”

            “I don’t even think she’s done that to her hair,” Severus continued, nodding out the door. “I think she’s dyed it lavender. Like a Muggle. It’s been the most boring shade of brown since she’s decided to moon over you.”

            I picked up a chair, pulling it over a few feet. Sitting in front of him, I asked, “Do you experience happiness? Does _anything_ make you happy?”

            “Happiness,” he hissed. “What, you’re going to be happy with _that_?”

            “Why not?” I shrugged.

            “Because you’re a homosexual, you coward.”

            It actually came as a bit of a surprise. To hear the word. People had made plenty of pointed remarks to my face over the years, but no one had ever defined it so narrowly. I had never made any admissions. I had kept my desires to myself.

            “Now who’s making assumptions,” I said, sitting back.

            “Assumptions? The two of you—it was pathetic. It was comical. Do you know, I thought that maybe we understood each other on at least one account. But the second he died, you went looking for someone else. I? I have stayed loyal. Even knowing what I could never have. At least I can look myself in the mirror each morning and know it will always be her.”

            I played with the hairs of my mustache as I considered how to reply.

            “Wolves are pack animals,” I said quietly. “It’s not in our nature to be alone. I have spent my entire adult life by myself, and I cannot bear it. You’ve always been fine with one person. Lily, now Dumbledore. I’m simply not like that. It’s not a matter of forgetting. It’s a matter of facing facts.”

            “How convenient.”

            “We’re all going to die. All of us. In the time we have left, does it not make sense to find companionship? To find comfort in one another?” I shook my head. “I know you won’t understand. You’re going to think whatever you want to think, whatever suits you, same as you always have. I just don’t see the harm in not being so constantly fucking cruel.”

            Snape looked me square in the eyes and said, “If you want to lie to yourself, do it at your leisure. I’ll die with a clear conscience.”

            Sighing, I pushed myself up. “I like to believe the best in people, Severus, but if you die with a clear conscience, I’ll eat my hat. Keep your opinions about Nymphadora to yourself, or I’ll show you more than a monster at the end of a hall.”

            I was nearly to the door when Snape said, “I hope you do marry her. You’ll make each other absolutely miserable.”

            The satisfaction in his voice made me sick. I left him there.

 

“What are you looking at?”

            I glanced back over my shoulder. “Nothing in particular.”

            Nymphadora sat down at my side. We dangled our legs over the side of the building, looking out over the rooftops.

            Her hair had only been the same shade of purple since I came back. I didn’t really think about it until Snape pointed it out. I felt guilty for noticing it now.

            “This house, eh?” she said.

            “This fucking house.”

            “You think it’s the house elf heads or my aunt’s face screaming all the time that really puts people off?”

            “Personally, I think it’s that the entire structure is a blight on the face of the earth. The land is probably cursed down to the center of the earth. That’s only my opinion, however.”

            “You know what’ll happen, though.”

            “What’s that?”

            “When it’s all over, this place will be a museum. It’ll be a protected building. Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. There’ll be guided tours. Everyone will laugh and take pictures when her highness down there starts her caterwauling. Someday, this place will make a lot of money. Maybe a portion of it will go to orphans’ funds or something.”

            “I think that’s optimistic.”

            “Why? What do you think will happen to it?”

            I didn’t reply at first, looking at the glittering lights of London. “No, perhaps you’re right.”

            “Remus. You know we’re going to win, don’t you?”

            “Yes. Of course.”

            She whacked me on the arm. “Not _of course, Dora, you’re so naïve and idealistic_. You mean _of course, Dora, of course we’re going to win because that’s just what’s going to happen_. Get that sour look off your face. We’ll win all right.”

            “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

            “Sometimes things don’t work out the first time. Doesn’t mean you can’t succeed if you don’t try again.”

            “I don’t want my pessimism to affect you. You don’t need my doubts.”

            “I’d listen. If you wanted to tell me.”

            “No. Better kept to myself.”

            Nymphadora leaned over, brushing her arm against mine. “You know, I remember the last war. You all want to go on like I’m some babe in the woods, no idea what the costs are. But I remember.”

            “It’s different.”

            “My father’s an undertaker. He was _the_ undertaker. I saw the bodies.”

            “You did not.”

            She nodded. “I did. Not that I was supposed to. I’d sneak down there, look in through a hole in the vents. I saw a lot of them. That’s how I knew what I’d be some day. How I knew I’d be in the Order, if the war wasn’t won. I had this babysitter, see. Shelley. She was so much fun. Chase me all over the house, read me scary stories. She always had the most beautiful boots. I loved her to death. Then one night I hear Dad moving around the house late, way he always would when there was a delivery, and I went to look. And it was her. She’d been dating a Muggle. Like our family, she had poison parts of the tree. Her uncle killed the both of them when they went out to a movie. Not even a Death Eater, just some bigot who felt comfortable in the world He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was making. And I didn’t cry about it. I got angry. I got so angry. I want to tear down any part of the world that made it safe for people like that. I might be an idealist, Remus, but I’m not a fool. I’m not naïve.”

            After a moment, I said, “I don’t think we’ll win.”

            “Well, I think we will.”

            “Good. One of us positive is better than none.”

            Nymphadora cleared her throat. “Thanks for giving his grim majesty a talking to. I could have done it myself, I just…I don’t know. He always knows how to make it hurt.”

            “I’ve known him since he was eleven. I know his tricks.”

            “Was he _ever_ a child?”

            “Yes, albeit the kind who liked to poke frogs with his wand until they exploded.”

            She let out a laugh, then cast me a look. “Seriously?”

            “I wish I was joking about half the things Severus has done.”

            “I don’t doubt it. You know, if it turns out that he was really just a spy for the other side the whole time, I will not be the least bit surprised.”

            “Dumbledore trusts him.”

            “Why?” Nymphadora said, flabbergasted.

            “I don’t know. But if Dumbledore trusts him, then it’s good enough for me. Severus Snape is a terrible person. But he has his reasons for being here.”

            Nymphadora swung her legs back and forth. “Are you leaving soon?”

            “I have to.”

            “Back to Latvia?”

            “Yes.”

            “So soon?”

            I sighed, glancing towards the night sky. “I have to go somewhere.”

            Nymphadora followed my eyes. The waxing moon hung in the sky. I thought it looked menacing, but that was how I had always felt about the moon. Like a bloated bag of flesh, swelling on my misery as the month progressed.

            “I’d forgotten,” she said apologetically. “Sometimes…sometimes I forget about that entirely. About…you. You know what I mean. You never talk about it.”

            “There’s nothing to discuss. I have no desire to talk about it, and people only bring it up from morbid curiosity.” I realized what I had just said, and backtracked. “That’s not to say you were—”

            Blushing, Nymphadora said, “No, it’s all right. Fair enough.”

            “It’s fine. If you have questions. I’m sure you must.” She shook her head, and I said, “Go on. What do you want to know?”

            Nymphadora pulled in a deep breath, then asked, “What’s it like? I can…change my face, change my hair, but that’s at will. What’s it like…to transform?”

            I answered her honestly. “I lose myself. I lose everything that I am. Something comes through me. Something that’s not me. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s just blood and bones cracking and then it gets to the worst point of all. When I stop fighting, and I welcome it. Because once I do that, it doesn’t hurt so very badly. Then I wake up the next day and try to figure out if I’ve killed someone or not.”

            “Sounds like a hen party I went to just out of Hogwarts,” Nymphadora quipped, and I broke out into soft chuckles. “Do you need someone to go with you to Latvia?”

            “No.”

            “I’d like to. Go with you.”

            “You’re needed here.”

            “I’m bloody well not. I’m useless here.”

            “You’d not be much good around a group of eastern European werewolves.”

            “At least I could—”

            “I’m a decade older than you,” I said. “Only I feel about a thousand years old. I’m an animal several nights out of every month. I’m poor, and cynical, and I will never belong anywhere. That’s not self pity, it’s just an honest recounting of facts.” I looked over at her and said, “Aim higher, Nymphadora.”

            I got to my feet, and Nymphadora said, “Remus—”

            I knew what she wanted to say, so I apparated away from her before she could. I refused to let her get the words out of her mouth. As much as I hated Snape in that moment, I knew what he said was right.

            We would make one another miserable.


	18. Faces

I wait very quietly, very patiently. I’ve done that quite a while now.

            I sit next to the door in my room. My cell, if we’re going to be honest about it. This is where I have lived the last month. I answer questions, I submit to testing, and I wait. More than anything, I wait.

            This room—this cell—is deep below the Ministry. I suspect it is still within the Department of Mysteries. We are certainly mysteries, so there is no better place to put us. I have not seen the sky since we came here. But I feel the moon moving overhead.        

            It was a full moon three days ago. I do not recall what happened. I was given wolfsbane and a sedative. They say I transformed, but I have to take their word for it. It was blissfully uneventful for me.

            I do what I can to make this small space livable. I have books, and a bed. There’s never enough light, but that’s a minor complaint. I’ve certainly lived in worse places than this.

            Sirius is not doing so well. His room is next to mine. They moved him there after he started punching holes in the wall of his first one. Unsurprisingly, he is not a fan of captivity. I can’t say that I blame him. I find it disingenuous to tell him not to worry, or that one day we’ll leave here.

            He’s been as well behaved as he can the last few days. I think he believes that if he acts up, they’ll try and take this from me. To be honest, he’s been quite attentive these last weeks. He’s not how I remember him, not precisely. Moody, given to low jabs, stand offish with everyone. Still, he’s far more settled. He’s not the man I remember from Grimmauld Place. Whatever happened to him beyond the Veil, it’s certainly affected him.

            I run my hands over my thighs, taking deep breaths in and out. I’ve thought about what I want to say. I know that none of it will mean a thing when I’m finally in the room.

            There’s a knock at the door, then Harry sticks his head inside. “Ready?”

            No. I smile, and get to my feet. “Of course.”

 

We walk in silence down the hallways, up the elevators. They have all been cleared so that no one will see me. I have seen very few different faces over the past month. A couple old familiar ones. Kingsley has been down a few times. His eyebrows have gone grey. He has aged, and I have not.

            Finally, I ask, “How are classes?”

            “It’s difficult to concentrate when you know the dead might be returning from their graves,” Harry replies. “But all right.”

            “You should go see Sirius.”

            “I would if I thought that he wanted to see me.”

            “Of course he wants to see you.”

            Harry shakes his head. After a moment, he says, “I somehow feel like I’m a disappointment to him. He hasn’t said it, but—you know Sirius. He doesn’t have to say a lot to get his point across.”

            “We’re all trying to do our best with a peculiar situation. I would appreciate it if you went down to see him.”

            It’s one of the stranger things about our resurrection. I remember Harry being hungry for Sirius’ attention as a teenager. Now, I am the first one that he comes to visit. I’m not sure he’s been alone with Sirius for more than a few minutes the last two times he visited.

            Harry gives a nod. “Yeah, all right.” The elevator pings, dropping a few inches when it stops. That little lurch in the stomach all Ministry elevators give you, regardless of which direction you’re going. “This is us.”

            I walk at his side. My insides are a mess. I didn’t eat today because I thought I might just sick it back up.

            _I am not a monster. I am not a monster. I am not a monster._

“Everything will be fine,” Harry says.

            I nod.

            He stops at a door halfway down the hall, and raises his brows at me. “Here we are.” He reaches for the handle, but I grab his wrist. Harry looks up at me.

            “Is he scared?” I ask. “I don’t want to do this if he’s frightened.”

            Harry pulls my hand off his wrist. “He’s fine,” he reassures me. But when he opens the door, he says, “Just like the rest of us.”

            Pushing the door open, Harry nods me in.

            It’s a sparse room, with a table in the middle, and dark wooden panelling on the walls. It feels like the seventies just to look at it. The ceiling is white and lit from an invisible source. There are some sturdy chairs around the table, and a few soft ones off against the wall.

            Andromeda sits at the table, gazing at me steadily. Her hair has gone completely white. Her face has begun dragging downwards. Familiar, but different.

            “Remus,” she says to me.

            Her voice is polite, but cautious. She does not move to take my hand or embrace me. I didn’t think that she would. She and Ted were never the fondest of me. I didn’t give them any reason to be. She is not pleased to see me, nor is she displeased. It’s too bizarre of a situation for anyone to discern how they feel about it.

            I have to lean slightly to see behind her. A boy sits on one of the soft chairs, his knees drawn up so he can hide his face against them. His hair is a perfectly normal shade of blondish brown. Much like mine, before all the greys set in.

            Andromeda looks back. “Teddy,” she says. The boy does not move. His grandmother’s voice softens. “Teddy, if you want to go home, we can.”

            He gives his head a small shake.

            I go to sit at the table. I pull out a chair, turning it to the side so that I can face my son. The last time I saw him, I could cradle him in the crook of my arm.

            “He gets shy sometimes,” Andromeda says, but barely to me. She’s only looking at him.

            “That’s all right.”

            “Teddy. This isn’t how we act when we meet someone. Straighten up, sweetheart.”

            Hesitantly, the boy lifts his head just enough so I can see his eyes over his knees. I see muddy green eyes, open wide.

            There’s a fluttering through my chest. Like something has opened its wings. I say, “Hello, Teddy.”

            The boy says nothing, only stares at me. He’s frightened of me, I know he is. They shouldn’t have brought him here—I wanted to see him, I wanted to see him _terribly_ , but not if this would be a memory he wished he could scrub out.

            “Teddy,” Andromeda prompts. “Sit up.” With a soft sigh from the back of his throat, the boy drops his legs over the front of the chair, lowering his eyes. I have to stifle a laugh. In exasperation, Andromeda says, “Edward Remus Lupin.”

            He has a black and white cat’s mouth and nose.

            “We’ve discussed this. He does this when he’s shy,” she says to me.

            “It’s fine,” I say.

            “It’s not fine. We don’t hide behind animals. Teddy.”

            “You know,” I tell him. “You have your mother’s whiskers.”

            I see the sides of his mouth twitch for a second. Then his face changes, slipping from fur to flesh.

            I cannot find the words.

            He has fair skin, with freckles across his nose and cheeks. His nose is long, just enough to be noticeable. His lips are thin, the bottom one pulled in as he nibbles on it. He watches me with his green eyes, taking in my face.

            Finally, I say, “There you are.”

            He doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what his voice would even sound like, and I’m almost afraid to hear it. Like if I did hear what he sounds like, I’d lose my mind.

            “I know this is a very strange situation for you,” I tell him. “It’s very strange for all of us. I’m not sure if this is permanent, or if it’s something that will pass. Just in case, I’m not sure if you know this, but your grandmother has a letter that I wrote you, when you were a baby. It’s for you on your seventeenth birthday. I thought about writing it over, but I think that what I said still stands. So if this is the only time we see one another, that will be waiting for you when you’re old enough. All right?”

            He nods once.

            “You’re going to Hogwarts next year, aren’t you. Your Uncle Harry told me how excited you were for that. Hogwarts is probably my favourite place in the whole world. I think you’ll feel the same.”

            Teddy doesn’t say anything. He fidgets with his hands in his lap, alternately staring at me and unable to meet my eyes.

            Andromeda looks between us, then says, “Teddy—”

            “It’s all right,” I say. “When I was your age, I kept my own counsel. Do you know what that means? I kept my thoughts to myself. Until I met my friends at school. I hear you’re homeschooled now. Does your grandmother worry about you making crocodile faces at the Muggles?”

            He nods again, just the once.

            “I imagine that would give them a bit of a fright. Has she told you about what your mum would do to her teachers when she was your age? She’d change some tiny thing about her face. Give herself different coloured eyes or pointed ears. When the teacher would notice, she’d change it back—” I snap my fingers. “Just like that. So they’d think they were seeing things. I think she drove more than one to drink, the truth be told.”

            He’s so quiet. I can’t imagine I would be any different in his position. I was a remarkably well possessed child at ten, but I’d been through things Teddy hasn’t. And he’s been through things I never experienced either. I knew that any plan I had going into this would disintegrate soon as I saw him.

            “Do you have any questions for me?” I ask, not expecting him to ask any. “It’s all right if you’re too shy to ask. Or if you think it’s something you shouldn’t ask me. I’m not easily offended.”

            Teddy scuffs the ends of his shoes against the carpet. Haltingly, he says, “Are you…really…a werewolf?”

            His voice is a quiet mumble. I give it a second, then I say, “I am.”

            Head bent, Teddy whispers, “Werewolves killed my granddad.”

            How do I respond to that? I study him a moment, then I glance at Andromeda. She’s very obviously avoiding my gaze.

            Gathering myself together, I reply calmly, “Yes. The werewolf that killed your granddad, he’s the same one that bit me when I was a little boy. He was a very bad person. But he can’t hurt anyone anymore. He’s gone now.”

            Teddy says, “ _You_ came back.”

            And what do I say to that? All I can say is, “Yes. Yes I did.”

 

I plan on telling Harry I can find my way back to the room myself—that’s an utter lie—but Neville is waiting with him when I’m ready to go back to my cell. Harry says he’s going to pop in to talk to Andromeda and Teddy, but I can tell what he means is he’s going in to fix any damage that might have been wrought.

            I follow Neville to the elevators, unable to say much. He doesn’t push me on the subject.

            It’s nice to be standing by him, to tell the truth. He is my height, and solidly built. I feel safe standing by him the way I did Alastor.

            I have a list of all the people I knew who are no longer with us. And yet…I came back.

            “I’ve wanted to tell you something,” I say.

            Neville glances over at me. “What’s that?”

            “Your mother would be so proud of you.” Neville’s cheeks flush. Battle hardened, scarred cheeks, but still, they flush. “Your father as well, but your mother—she and I were close friends. Did you know that?”

            “No. Were you?”

            “You and her were in my flat the day before Voldemort killed the Potters. She had all these Halloween costumes that she was dressing you in. And she was the one who told me what happened. What happened to everyone on Halloween. Your mother was one of the best people I ever met.” I smile slightly. “I wanted to tell you that when you were thirteen, but you never wanted to discuss them. So I let it be. But even then, I wanted to tell you how proud they would be of you.”

            He doesn’t reply to that right away. After clearing his throat, Neville says, “They’re still…they haven’t gotten any better.”

            “I know. I want to see them if I ever get out of here.”

            “They haven’t changed.”

            “It doesn’t matter. I just want to see her face. I’ve missed her face.”

            Neville doesn’t speak. I don’t push things anymore. Family can be a difficult topic.

 

When I step inside my room, I can’t state how relieved I am by what I find there. A big black dog sits on the floor, panting. He perks up at my arrival, ears straightening.

            I go to sit on the edge of the bed, and Sirius scampers to my side. I let him rest his shaggy head on my knee. He wiggles his bottom as he tries to get closer. It makes me smile. He knew I would need cheering up. Of course he knew.

            I rub my hand over his head, scratching behind his ears. He’ll do this for me sometimes. Just show up and let me pretend like he’s a real dog.

            When I can get the words out, I say, “He is the spitting image of me. I thought he would look like her. I could have stood it if he looked like her. But he doesn’t. Not at all.”

            Sirius scuttles around my knee, so he can sit between my legs. I continue to stroke his head, my other hand scratching beneath his muzzle.

            “It shouldn’t be me here. I didn’t love him until I saw him. I didn’t want him until I saw him. I’ve never said that to anyone. She loved him. She wanted him. She was the brave one. She was the good one. It should be her. I don’t know why it’s me. It shouldn’t be me.”

            Sirius whimpers, and I wrap my arms around him.

            Pressing my face against his fur, I whisper, “What if this is permanent? What if we’re stuck here? He doesn’t want me here. He thinks I’m a monster. His grandmother made sure of that. I can’t blame her. How am I supposed to live in this world if my own son thinks I’m a monster?”

            He scratches a paw against my shin.

            I hold him closer. “I’m so glad I’m here with you,” I say, a thing I could never tell him if he had a human face. “It would be unbearable if it were anyone but you.”

            My breath shudders, and I shut my eyes. I cling to the big black dog, my grim, and he whines softly, as comforting as he’s able.

            The future is laid out before me like a nightmare. It makes no sense. When there was a war, I knew what to do. I knew what was important. I was prepared for sacrifice.

            Now it’s an open question. It’s a world where there is no place for us. I thought I knew before what it was to be alone, but there is literally no space for Sirius and I. Our stories were finished, sealed off. We’ve done something unthinkable. A less cynical man might look at this as a second chance.

            I can’t. Not after everything we lost. I just can’t.

            There’s a knock at the door, and before I can react, Harry steps inside. He stops, looking at us in surprise. Dahn is behind him, face impassable as always.

            I avert my eyes and Sirius steps away from me, seamlessly returning to his human form. He turns away from me, but he briefly puts two fingers down on my shoulder. He sits down at a respectable distance on the end of the bed.

            Clearing his throat, Harry rubs the bridge of his nose. It’s a quirk he’s picked up. Maybe it’s what he does instead of pushing up his glasses. “We have good news.” He pauses, then says, “With some caveats.”

            “Of course,” I say, ever the polite host.

            Dahn strides in, conjuring her own chair. Harry takes the chair from beside the door, sitting down. He looks even smaller next to Dahn.

            “We’ve decided to release you,” Dahn says. “There will obviously be conditions.”

            “I imagine there would be,” I reply.

            “It would cause a panic if the public knew that anyone had returned from the grave. The majority of them don’t even know about the existence of the Veil. We have no desire to make this into common knowledge. The wise option would be to put the two of you away in perpetuity, given that we’re not even sure you two will age like living people. However—the idea of putting away men who died in service to the Order of the Phoenix more than rubs against the grain. It’s not fathomable. So for the time being, until we can come up with a solution that satisfies all parties, we’re going to relocate you to Ministry property that’s out of the way.”

            “Where?” Sirius asks.

            “The Ministry has considerable holdings in Lewis. It’s remote without being unreachable.”

            “Under guard,” he mutters.

            “No,” Dahn says, which surprises me. “I doubt either of you will be eager to attract attention. You know what the press is like. They can be rather savage. If you do seek out the public, I will have underestimated both of you, as will have Mr. Potter. The location is also within apparating distance of Mrs. Tonks’ residence if you wish to visit your son, Mr. Lupin, as well as Hogsmeade, if Mr. Potter wishes to visit either of you.”

            “Is this the only option?” I ask.

            Everyone looks at me. “Is there something you would prefer?” Dahn says.

            “I appreciate being near to Teddy. But I don’t know if that takes into consideration what Sirius wants. We don’t need to be in the same place, if that’s not what he wants.”

            “Sick of me?” Sirius asks.

            “Don’t _say_ that,” I reply, a little too quickly.

            There’s a silence, then Sirius says, “Could we have a moment alone, please?”

            Dahn nods, getting to her feet. “The Ministry does have multiple locations internationally that can be considered. It might be wise to think on that. If you did want to be among people, it would make more sense to send you outside Britain.”

            Sirius gives her a tight smile, waiting until she and Harry have left. Once the door shuts, he turns to look at me.

            I shut my eyes, rubbing a hand over my forehead.

            I startle when Sirius smacks my arm. “So?” he says. “Do you want to be rid of me?”

            “I can’t ask you to stay in _Lewis_ of all places when you could be in Tahiti.”

            “Moony, what would I do in Tahiti? I don’t tan. I’d look like a bloody lobster five minutes after my arrival.”

            “I’m not going to ask you to stay attached to my fate. I don’t want to…trap you.”

            “So I should wander the Earth instead.”

            “No. I’m only thinking…you had a massive chunk of your life stolen from you. And you’ve been _dead_ twelve years. The last time you were allowed to really live was nearly thirty years ago. If they’re going to let us off the chain…why shouldn’t you go do the things that were kept from you?”

            Sirius threads his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “Remus, I don’t know about you, but I’m confused. Everyone’s dead or miserable or just carrying on. There’s no precedent for what we’re supposed to do other than some nonsense about ‘you can’t go home again.’ I don’t know what to do. I know what I _don’t_ want to do. I don’t want to leave you alone in the Outer Hebrides. You’ll go mad. I won’t bother you. I’ll keep to myself, see about finding my own place away from you. Give you whatever space you need with your family, with however you want to do things. But I made you a promise. And I’m shit at keeping promises, but this seems like a terrible time to split up when we’re the only two people on the planet who seem to understand one another.” He tosses up his hands. “All that being said, I’ll piss off to—Arizona, or something, if you’re just ready for a fresh start. Merlin knows I wouldn’t blame you. Maybe it’s my own fear talking, trying to convince you to keep me around. If you’re ready for a clean break, I’ll give you that. I just want to do whatever will make you happy.”

            He means it. I can tell that he does. If I told him I needed to start over, he really would leave.

            “Suppose we’re both going to Lewis, then,” I say.

            Sirius looks at me, then smiles crookedly. “Suppose so.”


	19. 37

When I was thirty-seven, Dora said, “We should get married.”

            I nearly spit out my beer.

            Dora started pounding me on the back, laughing. “Oh no! Remus, don’t you dare.”

            Wiping off my mouth with the back of my sleeve, I said, “Why would you frighten me like that? Bloody witch.” She rested her chin on my shoulder, batting her violet eyes up at me. I gave it a second, then cracked up. “Beautiful witch. Ridiculous witch.”

            I bent my head down and kissed her. She scraped her fingernails through my hair, which I loved.

            We were in Aberdeen. Why Aberdeen? Why not? It had been a week since Dumbledore died, and we had decided to just disappear for a few days. “Might be the last chance we get to do something like this before the big one,” Dora reasoned. We didn’t want to go too far, and it had to be somewhere relatively remote. So Aberdeen it was.

            We had spent the last two days in pubs, always at least slightly drunk. It was the most I had smiled in years. She was funny and lively and _young_. Being with her made me remember what it was to be young.

            Dora pulled away from me, propping her arm up on the counter. She had vibrant blue hair. She lightly kicked me with a combat boot, smiling crookedly. “I’m serious. Let’s get married.”

            “Blimey. You move fast.”

            “Witches and wizards always move fast when it comes to marriage. Dad proposed to Mum the day they met.”

            “Your dad’s a Muggle.”

            “I can’t help it. I’ve got you, I just want to hold onto you. Only took a year of me being miserable to do it.”

            “Ah, so we’re going with guilt now.”

            “I don’t know. Is it working?” I snorted, and Dora said, “You know what I think about? When I look at you?”

            “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

            “What you’ll look like in ten years. What _I’ll_ look like in ten years. We’ll obviously have a flat in London. I hate commuting. You’ll want to be close to books. You keep acting like I haven’t thought ahead, but I have. And it’s not just girlish fantasies. It’s thinking about how I’ll browbeat the Ministry into getting you a decent job. It’s thinking about what colour I want the nursery to be.”

            “Nursery,” I scoffed. “Now you _are_ getting ahead of yourself.”

            “God, I want your babies. Little academics with half smiles and mustaches.” I laughed again, and Dora grinned. “At least you should hope that’s what you’ll get. If they’re anything like me, you won’t be able to recognize them half the time. You know, when I was little, I would run out among the Muggles, and I’d change my face so Mum wouldn’t catch me. I could never figure out how she did, every single time. You know how she did it?”

            “How?”

            “I was wearing the same clothes, you fool.” Dora ruffled up her hair. She never cared if it was messy, if it wasn’t just so. “Let’s get married.”

            “Why? What does marriage prove—”

            “Shut up.”

            “Sorry?”

            “Shut up. I don’t want to hear some speech about it all just being papers and ceremony. I don’t want a wedding, I want a partnership. I want to know there’s someone has my back, same as I have them. That’s not too much to ask, is there?”

            “I never thought I’d get married.”

            “Why’s that?”

            “Oh, I don’t know. Because I’m a thing that people actually hunt as a vocation.”            

            She rubbed a hand over my back. “So what you’re telling me is that fear has been your motivation for never considering marriage?”

            “I am not. Sense has been my motivation for never considering marriage.”

            “What makes sense anymore, eh? You’re afraid of what would happen to me if we were married, is that it? That’s rubbish. I am an actual trained Auror, Remus Lupin. A member of the Order of the Phoenix in my own right. If anyone came after me, let alone you, they’d need a bucket to pick up what pieces were left over.” She leaned towards me, eyes changing to a deeper shade of purple. “I love you, Remus. I’d protect you.”

It was one of the kindest things I’d heard in a very long time. I looked at her and thought back. When was the last time someone had offered me that? Safety. Protection. I loved her for it.

            “You’re asking me to marry you when the world is ending,” I said. “What happens if it doesn’t and you’re stuck with me?”

            She looked at me with affection and exasperation. “Remus—I’m asking you to marry me _because_ the world isn’t ending.” She tugged on my ear and raised her brows. “How about it?”

            I was reeling from deaths and betrayals. I had been publicly trapped by the last of my friends into either accepting this woman’s affections or giving away the last of my secrets. She was kind, and pretty, and so very persistent.

            “Yeah,” I said. “All right.”

 

We were married in the registry office less than a day later. We were supposed to give 15 days’ advance notice, apparently, but Dora coughed, her wand under her arm, and all of a sudden it was, “Everything appears to be in order.”

            I was a little tipsy. The truth was, I hadn’t been completely sober since coming to Scotland. The last year, I had tried to hold on to who and what I was. Dumbledore’s death put an end to all that. He was the last of the greats. He was the last one, I felt, who looked at me and really saw me. Once I knew he was dead, I just sort of went along with what everyone wanted. Everyone wanted me to be with Dora. So I was.

            She stood in front of me, in a fuchsia tartan blazer, flowers behind her ear, looking mad and gorgeous. I wore what I always wore, nothing of much importance, and I repeated the words I was supposed to repeat.

            When Dora was asked if she wanted to say any words, she gave a lovely speech. I can barely remember a word. What I remember is looking at her.

            When her eyes were on me, they’d light up. They’d turn some brilliant shade. Her whole body would relax. She adored me. I had never had anyone who openly adored me before. I felt like she loved me completely. It was a remarkable feeling. It felt like a candle in the dark.

            If I was lucky, maybe her light could shine on me.

            It came to my turn. I looked at her, this woman who somehow wanted me, and said, “I want us to be happy.”

            She smiled, and squeezed my hands.

 

“Suppose it would be too much to ask you to carry me across the threshold.”

            She was joking. She never expected me to. So I picked her up, making her shriek, and kicked the door to our room open.

            “Mrs. Lupin,” I said with an arched brow.

            Dora giggled, dropping her head against my shoulder. “Oh God, don’t you dare.”

            “I never will again,” I promised, carrying her inside. “It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.”

            “I like my name too much to ever give it up,” Dora said as I set her down. She stripped off her blazer, stretching her arms over her head as I went to close the door. “I cannot _stand_ Nymphadora. Do I look like a Nymphadora to you?”

            “Yes,” I replied.

            She flipped me off, plopping down on the side of the bed to remove her boots. “Tonks. That’s my name. I love it. Short, to the point. Not flouncy like Nymphadora. I can’t exactly ask you to call me Tonks, though. Bit weird, husband calling his wife by her surname.”

            Trying to keep down my smile, I sunk to my knees in front of her. I took her by the ankle and began untying her boots.

            After a moment, Dora said, “I like that.”

            “I imagined you might.”

            Watching me, she said, “You’re going to make a very good husband.”

            “You’re going to be a very strange wife.” She whacked me lightly on the shoulder, and I tossed the first boot aside. “We’re going to dismantle all the stereotypical gender norms. I’ll stay home and putter around the house. You’ll go to work every day and make the money. I’ll clean the house. You’ll slay dark witches.”

            “Stop it, you’re turning me on.” Dora pulled me up. Smirking, I dropped the second boot aside as she wrapped her arms and legs around me, parting my mouth with her tongue.

            She was not the first woman I had been with. There had been two or three in the early days, part of my late night prowls through London. And there had been the mother of a Muggle child I taught in a particularly isolated corner in Northern Ireland, when I was simply lonely and needed _someone_. It’s not as if I was trying to prove anything with Dora. The first few times I slept with her were pleasant enough. It wasn’t a chore. She was enthusiastic and present and it had been far too long since I had been touched.

            That night, though, I wanted her.

            She knew what she liked, threading her fingers through my hair, angling my head this way and that. I slid my hands under the back of her shirt, pressing my fingers down the length of her spine. “Yes,” she whispered against my mouth.

            I had married this strange girl. This strange girl who talked about the future. Who looked ahead instead of being drowned by the past.

            I opened my eyes, and saw her face rippling. I paused, fascinated.

            Dora stopped. “Sorry,” she said. She was embarrassed. “It happens sometimes, if I don’t keep an eye on it.”

            I reached up, touching the delicate sweep of her cheekbone. “Never apologize,” I said. “Be whatever you are. Be whatever you want to be with me.”

            Her eyes flashed yellow, and I climbed up onto the bed with her. I laid her down and stripped off my shirt, watching her beneath me.

            She sighed, then I watched her face become a thousand different people.

 

She was asleep, even though the sun wasn’t quite down. I had laid in bed next to my wife, sobering up, thinking, trying not to think. When I decided that Dora was deep enough asleep, I slipped out of bed and got into my trousers.

            There was a little balcony off our room. I cringed as the door made a soft _snck_ behind me.

            Pulling out my wand, I conjured myself a cigarette for the first time in fifteen years. I put it between my lips and lit it with the end of my wand. Propping my elbows on the railing, I took a deep drag of smoke and looked out over the beach.

            It was getting dark in the east. There was just enough light left to see the gold in the sands. On the horizon of the North Sea, I could see stars just beginning to shine through.

            Closing my eyes, I said, “You coward. You absolute coward.”

            With a shake of the head, I smoked my cigarette and stayed outside until there was nothing but night.


	20. Past/Present

The night before we go to Lewis, we venture into London.

            I am disguised as a Ministry clerk who was amenable to surrendering a few hairs for an unknown cause. If anyone has an endless supply of Polyjuice at the ready, it would be the Ministry. The man is my height, but younger, with black hair and his teeth feel odd in my mouth.

            Sirius has opted for his dog form. This means, of course, that he has to go on a leash. He takes a look at the collar in my hand and says deadpan, “What’s our safeword, Moony?”

            I pick the worst word I can think of. “Wormtail.”

            He makes a face. “Took all the fun out of that, didn’t you.” He turns into a massive black dog, and sits patiently while I fix the collar around his neck. He has an amused glint in his eye that transcends species.

            We head into the world with four guards. They trail behind us at a distance, blending in with their Muggle clothes, and I try not to think of them.

            Once we are in the open air for the first time in a month, I take a moment to simply breathe. It’s autumn. I can taste it. Cars streak by. A young couple walk by across the street, laughing.

            To one side, the noise is louder. To the other, quiet.

            “Where do you want to go?” I ask Sirius.

            He sits there, wagging his tail, then gets up and walks away from the noise.

            We walk side by side instead of him leading me, like a real dog would. He’s large enough that I can put my hand down on his back when I want to. I find that I like to have that closeness. I need to feel something I know is real.

            I am glad to be going to Lewis with Sirius. It was kind of him to offer not to. Out of character as well. He’s been my best mate for many years, but even I would not characterize him as unselfish. This time he was. He’s been so good since we came back.

            I wonder sometimes, if he remembers more than he’s letting on. I cannot pick out anything from the ten years I was absent from the world. I feel sometimes as though the Battle of Hogwarts was only a few weeks ago. I feel the loss of my wife with grief sharp enough to flay. I think of what Teddy looks like now, and it’s near impossible to reconcile with the infant I so recently held in my arms.

            Sirius, though—he is not the man I remember. He is changed, and in the best of ways.

            When I realize where he’s taking us, I sigh through my nose. “It’s not there. It closed down years ago. Maybe decades now.”

            Sirius lets out a disinterested huff and continues to pad along, determined.

            If he likes. I have nowhere particular I want to go here. I’m not all that interested in this world. I have pictures of London in my mind. From when I was young, from the Grimmauld Place year. I know it will be so very changed. It’s difficult sometimes to keep from screaming for the pure existential distress that comes from dying and being resurrected. If I let my mind really think about it, I would probably shut down and sit in a corner clawing at my skin like I was turning. Better to keep it all compartmentalized.

            Not fair to Sirius, though. He spent so long cooped up. Then he was dead. If he wants to go for a walk, I can do that for him.

            “Everyone has mobiles,” I observe, a bit surprised. Every single person that we pass, regardless of age, seems to have one either to their ear or in their hands, tapping at them with their thumbs. What are they doing there? It’s almost as if they’re typing. That might be what they’re doing. Are people sending written messages with their mobiles now? “If you hated phones before, Padfoot, you’re going to be absolutely miserable about it now.”

            Besides the mobiles, I can’t see much that has changed. I was never one to follow trends, so I’m not sure what’s different from 1998. I see a number of women who appear to have dyed their skin orange for some unfathomable reason. Other than that, I’m useless. Sirius would be able to see what’s changed, but he can’t do much more than bark at present.

            The automobiles are smaller, I suppose, but that always seems to happen. Eventually we’ll all be on motorized unicycles, if the trend continues.

            Other than that—it’s just London. The eternal city.

            We walk for blocks, Sirius swinging his head from side to side, me quietly pointing out anything that catches my attention. It’s good for us. To do this. To see what the world is like. As reluctant as the Unspeakables are to let us out, I think they recognize we should do this before setting us loose in Scotland. Culture shock and all that.

            I think we’ve already had a life shock, thank you.

            We come around the corner and stop. Across the road, Saxena’s used to stand. I fully expected it to be a video store, which is what it was after the restaurant closed down.

            But no. The building is gone, replaced with a hulking behemoth of glass and steel, advertising condos for an outrageous sum of money. The charm has been drained from it entirely. The brick, the years, the history—all replaced with this antiseptic monstrosity. This place is so Muggle that it’s painful, and I say this as a man with a Muggle mother.

            “Christ,” I mutter.

            Sirius whimpers, looking up at me questioningly.

            I shake my head. “We’ve been gone so long that the old places haven’t just been knocked down. The ones that came after are gone as well.”

            I am ready to go to Lewis. I want to be far, far from this place.

           

The house sits in a lot of nothingness. Beautiful nothingness, of course. It’s Scotland. The ground is grey rock and loamy, grass going tan with the season. There’s a small body of water within eyesight of the cottage. The sky is appropriately overcast for the location.

            I nod and make comments here and there as I’m shown around the small house. It will more than suit my needs for the immediate future, not that I’m entirely sure what those needs are. It is relatively bare, which I like. The young Auror showing me about tells me there’s a working internet connection, as though that should matter to me a great deal. Her face is vaguely familiar. I might have taught one of her older siblings.

            This house reminds me of any number of forgotten places I lived with my parents during my childhood.

            She’s barely finished when I ask, “Can we pop around to Sirius’?”

            She side-alongs me not very far. I could walk it in an hour, if I felt like it, and I imagine I shall. His place is remarkably similar to mine, at least from the outside.

            I’ve been concerned. My tour was given by a junior Auror. His was by the head of the Unspeakables. I can’t help my protective streak. I could hardly have refused to be parted from him, however. What would that have looked like?

            I rap on the door, waiting for Sirius to welcome me in before opening the door.

            There are crates everywhere. My place was put together when I got there, already assembled for me to slip inside. The walls here are empty, and save for a sofa in front of the fireplace, there is no other furniture I can see. Only these crates in varying sizes.

            Sirius stands amongst them with Dahn. I expect him to look crabby, to be eager to get this woman away from him. He doesn’t. He looks relaxed, with the smallest of smiles on his mouth.

            “All set?” Sirius asks me.

            I nod, a tad off kilter. “Right as rain.”

            Dahn says, “You’re both aware of the conditions. We’ll be checking in weekly, and you know how to get ahold of us should you have any concerns.” She nods, stepping back.

            To my surprise—no, shock—Sirius reaches out a hand. He’s holding himself very still as he does so, shoulders gone tight. He stands his ground, though, extending his hand.

            After a second, Dahn takes his hand and shakes it. “Thank you for all your help,” Sirius says.

            “You don’t crush a miracle,” Dahn says gruffly. She lets him go and walks past me. “Mr. Lupin.” I nod, unsure of what else to do. Once she and the Auror are past the threshold, they disapparate, and Sirius and I are left alone, free men for the first time since this absurdity began.

            “I’m all right here,” Sirius says. “I’ll come round to yours once I’ve had some time to settle in.”

            I find it difficult to believe he’s all right. The thing is, he looks as calm and collected as I’ve ever seen him. “Come by for drinks later?” I ask.

            He nods, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around his home with satisfaction. “Sounds good.”

            Clearing my throat, I wait a moment. Then I apparate away.

 

The night is cool and crisp and peaceful. We sit outside on the edge of the pond in two chairs Sirius transfigured from rock. We each have a bottle of beer, but I don’t know if I should have any. If I start, I’m not sure that I’ll stop.

            “We’ll have to learn how to cook,” Sirius says.

            “I can cook.”

            “You can cook breakfast and grilled cheese sandwiches,” he retorts.

            “Fair.”

            “I don’t intend to starve just because I can’t figure out a bloody stove. And apparently it’s not the done thing to buy a house elf anymore, so that’s off the table. Do you know how the internet works?”

            “What has that to do with cooking?”

            “That little Auror with the blond hair, she was telling me that you can watch videos on how to cook. On the computer. I’ve never touched a computer before in my life, but it’s supposed to be dead useful. If I can figure out the internet, there might be all sorts of things I could learn.”

            “Or you could read a book.”

            “I want to learn how to computer,” Sirius says adamantly.

            Raising my shoulders, I say, “We could muddle through that. There must be books on them.”

            “You’re so old.”

            “I’m _dead_ ,” I reply, and Sirius snorts.

            I don’t understand how he can suddenly be so blasé about everything. The word I would have used for him in those last years was _tortured_. Right now, he seems fine. How can he be fine, when I feel like I’m looking down the barrel into the abyss?

            There’s the distant call of some bird. I shiver a little, and raise my wand, pointing it back over my shoulder towards the house. “ _Accio_ blanket.” A few seconds later, I hear it come sailing towards me. I reach up and snatch it from the air. Draping it over my legs, I settle back against the surprisingly comfortable rock chair.

            “It’s beautiful out here.”

            “I suppose so.”

            “Stop being so sour. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

            “I’m not being sour, I’m just…thinking.”

            “That’s always been your problem. You think things into the bloody ground.”

            “How can I _not_ think about what’s going on?”

            “You finish that drink in your hands, for one.” He looks at his bottle, then puts it down on the ground between us. “You can have mine as well, if you’d like.”

            “I’m sorry, are you actually Sirius Black? Is this some test I’m being put through with an Unspeakable in disguise?”

            He doesn’t come back with a snide reply. Instead, Sirius looks down at the water a moment, obviously uncomfortable. “I drank too much in Grimmauld Place.” He shakes his head, and amends, “I was a drunk. I’ve never met a bad habit I didn’t try to drown in.” He tucks back his hair, and says, “Besides, that tastes like yeasty piss. Only fit for you commoners.”

            At that I smile. I’m remembering why I spent so long being charmed by him. I am relieved that he’s…better. Than before. Unnerved, yes, but I didn’t think I would ever see him…as an adult, I suppose.

            Taking a look around at the night, I say, “Do you know what this reminds me of?”

            Sirius makes a derisive sound from the back of his throat.

            I glance over at him, raising a brow. He realizes what he’s done, and I think he might actually blush, even in this cool weather. I look at him until Sirius shrugs and explains, “I don’t want to—I don’t want to reminisce. I don’t want to think about the past. I want to talk about what’s next.”

            “You what?”

            “What’s next,” he says slowly, as if I’m stupid. “Who knows how or why, but we’re here. Things turned out all right. I mean—I know you think they didn’t. Things didn’t turn out perfectly, and you’ve always been eager to jump at the negative. I know it’s terrible that Molly and Arthur lost their boys. It’s awful that a lot of people lost their children and parents and all that. We died as well. Except that terrible looming thing that hung over us all those years—it’s gone. He’s gone. Noseless is dead and buried, and I hope it was a shallow grave so the dogs dig him up and shit on him. You were always so focused on things ending. I didn’t ever think about the future at all. It was always what was in front of me in the moment. What would make me happy or solve some immediate problem. But now—now there’s this chance sitting out before us, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the past swallow me whole. I did that too much. Being in that prison—you could focus on the wailing and the blood and things you didn’t even have words for, or you could just go inside your own head. So that’s what I did, and all I thought of for twelve years was what went wrong, and even after I escaped I couldn’t stop doing that. You told me plenty of times that you’ve carried your prison with you your whole life. I don’t want to do that anymore, Remus.”

            I don’t know what to say to that.

            Sirius makes up for my silence. “I worry I’ve dragged you down too much. That stops now. I obsessed about the past, and so I made you do it too, and I am sorry for that. Or maybe I’m projecting on you and I should just leave you to whatever you want to do. I just…feel like things are open in front of me for the first time and I don’t know what’s going to happen next, and that’s fantastic. I thought I’d be terrified, but I’m so relieved. Maybe it’s that I don’t have to worry, or there’s no great crisis. The only person I’m beholden to is you, and you have your own life to live. There’s so much for you to do, and I am happy for you. So let’s not talk about the past. Let’s talk about what’s going to happen next.”

            I need a moment before I can respond to that. “The past is safer.”

            “The past is a trap. What do you want to do next?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “What about your boy? He has his father back. You’ve got a lot of getting to know one another ahead of you.”

            I shake my head. “I don’t want to rush him.”

            “You don’t have to rush him. You’ve got all the time in the world.”

            “What do you want to do?” I ask, desperate to turn the focus away from myself. Sirius shrugs again, folding his hands in his lap. “What are all those boxes in your house for?”

            He smiles to himself. “Do you remember, one time you asked me what I wanted to do? For a career. It was all hypothetical then. Except now there’s time. And I’m alive, more or less. So I’m going to try making robes. I’ve got all kinds of fabric and thread and needles and I’m going to give it a go. I want to see if I can be something else. If I can do something instead of just… Maybe I’m being silly. I probably am, and maybe I’ll hate it. I just don’t want to waste this chance.”

            I study him a long while.

            “You remember what happened beyond the Veil,” I deduce.

            To his credit, Sirius doesn’t flinch, nor does he rush to deny anything. “What makes you say that?” he says calmly.

            “You don’t go from Grimmauld Place to this in the span of a few weeks. This is years.” A bit frightened to ask, but knowing I have to, I say, “Do you really remember?”

            “I do,” Sirius admits.

            “Do you know what happened?”

            “Do I know how we got here? Not a clue.”

            “What was it like? There, I mean. What happened there?”

            Sirius doesn’t immediately respond. He crosses his arms, not defensively, just against the evening breeze. “I don’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t a person that I can be proud of. The problem is, I don’t know if I could ever say that once about myself. Not in my entire life. Or death. But I want to be a person that I can see in the mirror without being ill. So if you want me to tell you, I will. I’ll tell you the whole thing, if that’s what you need.” He looks at me, a brow raised. “Do you need that?”

            I know that I should say yes. My whole life was spent wanting to learn. Needing to know everything, needing to be the person who knew the most. Now he’s offering to tell me what comes after death, to fill in 10 years I lost after my life ended. He could tell me what eternity looks like.

            “No,” I say.

            Sirius looks briefly surprised, but he covers it up. “It’s not only a one time offer. If you change your mind, I’ll be ready.”

            He prefers this to whatever comes after. I think that tells me all I need to know. “I’m already trying not to go mad at the thought of returning from the grave. Let’s leave well enough alone for now.”

            Sirius nods. Then he says, “I won’t stand in your way. Whatever your life is going to be, it’s yours to live. I’ll always be there if you need me, but…there’s things here for you that just aren’t for me.”

            I know that he means Teddy. “I’ll never be much of a father.”

            “I’ve known you long enough to know that’s a lie.”

            “I couldn’t tell you what I really thought…”

            “About what?”

            “About him. And her. It was…” I pull the blanket closer. “You want to talk about looking in the mirror without being sick to your stomach, I don’t know if that’s something I’ll ever achieve.”

            The bird calls again, and Sirius says, “I’m sure you did your best.”

            “I didn’t,” I reply.

            “You’re always too hard on yourself—”

            “Sirius.”

            He glances at me, then says, “Well. Let’s look forward instead of back. Let’s try that for once, shall we?”

            He gives me a smile, then turns his gaze to the star filled skies. Meanwhile, I sit here, the past with its claws in my flesh, wondering how I could ever turn my face forward.


	21. 37 (2)

I slunk back to the Tonks’ house like the shiftless husband and son-in-law that I was. I didn’t just open the door and go in, like I’d seen other members of the family do. No, I knocked on the front door and waited.

            When I heard the footsteps coming down the hall, I tensed. I was bracing myself for…well, exactly what I deserved.

            The curtain by the door drew aside, and Andromeda looked out at me. I didn’t meet her eyes. I couldn’t.

            The curtain fell back into place, and I listened to her walk away.

            Clearing my throat, I kept my position on the doorstep. It was still only the afternoon. I’d left before dawn that morning, a letter left at the bedside, not a word said to anyone. Here I was, only a few hours later. I hadn’t gotten far. Raising my fist, I knocked again.

            I heard movement inside, and the murmur of Ted’s voice. That wasn’t good. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was on the run. If he’d come home—it was my fault. If they caught him here, it was on me.

            The door opened, and he stared at me a moment. He obviously hadn’t expected to find me. “Hello Remus,” he said.

            “Ted.”

            He glanced back over his shoulder. “Didn’t think you’d be back for some time.”

            “I couldn’t stay away.”

            His expression softened some more. Ted was a good man. He was disappointed that Dora had tied her ship to mine, but he never came out and said it. Andromeda—well, she was a Black. No one could hold a grudge like a Black.

            “Dora’s upstairs in her room,” Ted said, stepping aside. “I’m sure she’d be glad to see you.”

            I doubted that, but I smiled slightly and walked inside.

            Andromeda had stationed herself at the staircase. Her arms were tightly crossed. She wasn’t standing in my way, just making sure I couldn’t avoid her. She stared daggers into me as I made to go upstairs. I paused a moment, wondering what I could say to her. I knew there was nothing, so I took hold of the bannister and walked up the steps.

            We had come to live in this place once Dora learned she was pregnant. Andromeda was considered untouchable. She might be a blood traitor, but she was still pure blood, and sister to two Death Eaters. Ted had been gone since the Ministry fell and his name went on a list. I wanted Dora to be somewhere safe. I came and went, longer for each time.

            This morning, though, I’d left her a letter saying I wouldn’t be back.

            The door to her room was closed. I rapped on it gently. She said, “I don’t want to talk, Mum.”

            I took a breath, then cracked the door open.

            She was sitting on the bed, legs pulled up beneath herself. Her hands were on her belly. She was always resting them there, feeling the baby moving around inside her. Her hair was a perfectly normal shade of brown, and so were her eyes.

            Dora looked at me, and I looked at her, and neither of us said anything. Finally, I closed the door, then went to sit at the end of the bed. I perched on the side of it, hands wrapped around the edge.

            Dora said hoarsely, “Why are you here?”

            I could hear all the tears she had shed. “I couldn’t leave you,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t leave the baby.”

            “You said you were.”

            “I wanted to feel useful. I wanted to help Harry and his friends. But it didn’t feel right. Just going. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

            It was, perhaps, the lowest moment of my life. The moment I thought the absolute least of myself. Harry’s words were ringing in my ears. It wasn’t only that, though. It was my own self disgust. Coming back here, that had been the coward’s way out. I had thought about just walking away. From all of it. Leaving England and never sparing a second glance backwards. Instead, I’d come back here, like I was expected to.

            “Did you see them? Are they all right?”

            “I did. They’re fine. They can take care of themselves. I have other responsibilities. It’s more important that I be here with you.”

            “Then why can’t you look at me?”

            I didn’t hesitate to look at her. I already felt hollow except for my loathing. Dora gazed back at me, eyes searching my face. She wasn’t a fool. She knew I hadn’t come back because I wanted to.

            “Why are you here?” she said.

            “Because I’m your husband, and I’m that child’s father.”

            Dora closed her eyes, letting out a little hitch of a sigh. “I’m so _stupid_.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder with a frustrated jerk of the head. “Why was I so bloody stupid?”

            “You haven’t done anything wrong—”

            “Why did you marry me?”

            “You asked.”

            “That’s not what I’m—” Dora passed a hand over her face. “I love you. I love you so much that I thought…I thought being stubborn would fix whatever this is, but I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Everyone always said…”

            She trailed off, and I nodded. “Werewolf who never stuck with anything for more than a few months—”

            “ _No_ ,” Dora said adamantly, then she shook her head. “They didn’t say it. They said you were sad. That you’d had more than your share, that you were so much older, that we had nothing in common. I’ve never cared that you were a werewolf, you know that—”

            “I know.”

            “Even though you thought I should. You hate werewolves more than any person I’ve ever met. You hate yourself so much, and I thought—I thought if I could love you with my whole heart, that I could change that. But you don’t want that to change. I don’t know if it’s just been so long that you don’t know how to live any differently, but—how can a man teach a child to love himself when he can’t do the same?”

            It was the least of my concerns regarding the child growing inside her.

            “Did you ever want this baby?” Dora said, taking me off guard.

            “It’s not the time to have a child,” I said carefully.

            “What if it were any other time?”

            She had me there.

            “You’re so terrified of him being like you that you don’t even want him.”

            I couldn’t say anything to that either. She was right again, and still she had barely scratched the surface.

            “I don’t care how much I love you, if you ever make this child feel that he’s unworthy, if you ever make him feel the way you have, you will never see him again. Is that even a threat to you? Do you even care if you see him or not?”

            “Of course I care.”

            “Then how can you be so fucking calm?”

            “Because I’m tired.”

            “We’re _all_ tired, Remus. You don’t have a monopoly on being sad. It’s a shitty time in the world, but we’re all making do. You have to be here. And I don’t just mean _here_ , I mean present. You’re my husband. You’re going to be a father. I need a partner, not—whatever is going on with you.”    

            “I know.”

            “Argue with me! Tell me something I don’t want to hear! If you just sit there—if you just sit there all passive, not telling me what you really think, then how are we supposed to work on this? How are we supposed to make this better?” I had no response for that. It was several seconds before Dora said quietly, “Do you not want to make this better?”

            “Of course I do.”

            “You keep saying ‘of course’ but I don’t think you mean it.” I felt her eyes on me. I looked at the floor, thinking of what was in the basement. “Remus—do you love me?”

            “Of course I do,” I said, before I could stop myself.

            “Not _of course_! Do you—do you love me?”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you in love with me?”

            “I love you.”

            “Remus,” Dora said, stubborn and desperate. “Are you in love with me?”

            I repeated, “I love you.”

            I heard her take a shuddering breath. “God,” she whispered. “Oh God.”

            “I do love you—”

            “Stop. Stop talking.” Dora wrapped her arms around her middle. Like she was protecting herself, or the baby, or both. “That whole year…I thought you were just…”

            She couldn’t bring herself to say it. That when I said I didn’t want her, that I had meant it. It hadn’t been a subterfuge. It had perhaps been the last time I was honest with her.

            “Why did you—why did you agree to…” Screwing up her face, Dora cried out, “Why did you say yes when I said everything in front of—”

            Dora stopped again. When she proclaimed her love in front of all our closest friends, moments after our leader had been murdered.

            “What else could you have said. I put you on the spot. I put you on the spot in front of everyone, so you said you loved me back. To avoid making a scene. Well. That’s fucking English, isn’t it.” Dora shook her head. “After that—after that, it was just you and I. Scotland. You could have said something. I asked you to marry me. You could have said no. Why didn’t you say no?”

            Why? Why indeed.

            I knew I had a choice to make. I could finish what I started, and walk out the door, and never come back. Or I could punish myself, and stay exactly where I was.

            I turned, so that I could face her. I looked at her as I spoke. “I said yes, because you’re hopeful, and lovely, and you made me feel like I haven’t felt in what seems like a million years. I felt like just being near you made things brighter. But that’s a terrible reason to marry someone. Hoping that they can make you something you’re not, just by wishing. I’ve been a dreadful husband. I don’t know that I can ever be what you want. And I am sorry for that.”

            Dora looked out the window. She was so young. She was an Auror, and a terror, and she would be a fierce, loving mother. But she was also young. “Do you want to leave?” she asked, her voice cracking.

            “I do. Because I’m a coward. I don’t want you to be married to a coward, however.” Stay, go, it didn’t matter. This war would kill me, like it had every other person I loved.

            “I want you to love me,” Dora whispered.

            “I do love you. I just don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

            “Well, neither do I.”

            I raised my brows at her. “Should we figure it out together?”

            She chewed on her lower lip. After a moment, she kicked me in the knee.

            “Is that a yes?”

            “If you think you can be present—or at least bloody try—then yes.”

            I knew that I should have kissed her then, or held her. That’s what a husband who really loved his wife would have done. Except I just smiled at her, and said, “Good.”

            Dora smiled back, only there was an odd tension in the air. The sense that this conversation would come back. I reasoned again that I would probably be done before that ever happened.

            I still think that conversation might have been the worst moment in all my life.


	22. Those That Lived

I’m waiting outside when Harry appears from thin air. He’s wearing the same black robes he always wears, carrying a sack at his side. When he sees me, he puts up a hand and starts walking my way.

            I keep two stools by the front door. When I’m inside, alone, I feel far too contained. I prefer to be in the open air. I try to read, but I find it difficult to focus. One day I sat here and tried to write, but I couldn’t get a single word down on the page.

            “Hello,” Harry says.

            “Hello yourself.”

            He hesitates, then drops onto the stool by my side. Setting the bag on the ground, he stretches out his short legs and takes a deep breath.

            “Can I retire here?” Harry asks.

            “Long day?”

            “No, not—I think I’d like a place like this. When all is said and done. Quiet. Plenty of space. I don’t think I’d ever want to live in the city again.” He clears his throat, then pushes the bag closer to me. “As promised. Take a teaspoon of the purple one and two tablespoons of the green one an hour before sundown, and you won’t remember a thing.”

            “Don’t suppose I could take that around the clock,” I say, half joking.

            “I don’t know,” Harry replies. “You want to share?”

            We glance at each other. A lot is said without words. Two lost men who aren’t entirely sure how to navigate through the world.

            “How are you really doing at Hogwarts?” I ask him.

            Harry smiles slightly, then shrugs. “I love my kids. I love teaching. It’s about the only thing that’s kept me from going mad. It’s just…”

            “Everything else?” I finish.

            He nods, relieved. “You know—I always thought that I understood you a lot more, once I became a professor. To be honest…I thought about you a lot.”

            “Me?”

            “Yeah. I don’t know, it just seemed like…we had a lot in common.” He shakes his head. “You don’t want to hear me go on.”

            “I always would.”

            Harry gazes towards the horizon, then says abruptly, “You’ll be seeing Teddy again, yeah?”

            “Day after next. I’ll go down to the house. Your guess is good as mine if Andromeda will let me over the threshold.”

            “No,” Harry says stricken. “Of course she will. Teddy’s so excited to have his dad back—” I cast him a look, and Harry pauses. “Of course he’s excited.”

            “You spoke to them after I met him. Did he seem particularly excited?”

            “It was shock, is all. If I had my dad back—” Harry stops.

            “What?”

            Harry scratches at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. When I was a kid, I’d dream about it. Having him and Mum around. Now, though—if they came back…”

            He trails off. I can tell that there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how.

            “Besides school,” I prompt, “how’s the rest of your life?”

            He lets out a soft laugh. “Oh…you know.”

            “It can’t be easy, being 28 and still being known as The Boy Who Lived.”

            “No. For most people…that’s what I’ll be known for. That’s what they think when they think of me. You know what it’s like…having people think about you, and it’s only ever the one thing.”

            “It must be lonely.”

            “It is. I’m not complaining. I know I’m lucky. I’m so lucky to have made it through—”

            “Harry. There’s no needs for platitudes here. I understand.”

            He fidgets with his hands, then says, “We saved the world, but there wasn’t a happily ever after. Maybe there was for a lot of people, but…I don’t know. When it was all going on, I thought I’d die, or I’d get what I deserve. Like the heroes in the stories do. Everyone told me I was the chosen one so many times it became part of the narrative I told myself. And heroes are sacrificed or rewarded. Instead, life just…kept going. The week after the battle, there was so much to do. There were so many funerals. It felt like we were tying up loose ends, at least. Then a morning came where there were no more funerals to go to, and Ron just wanted to be with his family, and Hermione wanted to find her parents, and I was sitting in a café all on my own eating waffles. There wasn’t…a place for me. I defeated the worst wizard of all time, and I’d done what I was supposed to do. After that…the world didn’t really have a use for me.”

            I’m nodding the entire time he speaks. I remember what it felt like, after we thought Voldemort had died the first time. My world wiped flat, with no clear direction forward.

            “After awhile,” Harry continues quietly, “I was just a reminder of a time people would rather forget. I couldn’t figure out what I was supposed to do. I drifted around. Tried to date, but…well, trying to date when you were the chosen one is ridiculous. Other people, they were getting on with their lives. Getting married, having kids. I felt…out of step with everyone else. But I’ve always felt like that. Even Ron and Hermione, you know, I loved them, but we did these mad things when we were kids, and we weren’t kids anymore. I was happy for them when they got married, and I felt sorry for myself too. Maybe not even sorry for myself, just sort of…”

            “Desperate,” I fill in.

            He nods at me gratefully. His face takes on a severe cast, like he’s reliving all the old hurts. “Then Ron died. He was a hero. He was…he was the kid I sat with when I went to Hogwarts the first time. And he just died. In an accident. Not his fault, not anyone’s fault. Just an accident. It…all seemed to end there. Again. The world keeps ending, Remus, only I keep surviving, and I don’t understand why.”

            We don’t say anything for a long moment.

            “Harry,” I say finally, “if you’re reading my mind, it’s extremely rude to do so without asking first.”

            He lets out a soft, sad laugh. “I told you, I was always thinking about how much we had in common.” Harry flinches, then says, “There’s something I haven’t told anyone. There are a few things I haven’t told anyone. And I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me for them.” He rubs both hands over his face. “Christ, this all got serious so fast, didn’t it.”

            “It’s the first time you and I have had a real conversation since you were a child, without Unspeakables hovering around. I imagine there’s a lot on your mind.”

            Harry draws up into himself a bit. I can see his father in the shape of his jaw, the rise of his cheekbones, but I do not see a ghost.

            “I think it’s my fault you’re both back.”

            It takes me several blinks before I can say, “Beg pardon?”

            “Do you remember anything—anything after you died?”

            “No.”

            “Not even right after?”

            “No. What are you talking about?”

            “I had…near the end, I had the Resurrection Stone. I went out to meet Voldemort, and I had the Stone, and I was frightened…so I called you all back. The four of you.” Harry sucks in a breath. “You and Sirius. And Mum and Dad.”

            I can only stare at him.

            “I don’t know when the last time anyone used the Stone was, but I used it, and now two of you are back. Maybe I did something…maybe it’s my fault—”

            “No,” I say. “It’s not your fault.”

            “You can’t know that. _I_ can’t know that.”

            “Harry, if something were to happen, it would have brought _all_ of us back. And I don’t know why it would have taken ten years.”

            “Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Do you think I don’t… I’m bloody sick, thinking that they’re going to come through the Veil as well. What if I did that to them, Remus? What if I bring my parents back through the Veil?”

            He looks horrified by the prospect, and I try to comfort him. “It’s all right, Harry. Being alive…it’s not all that terrible—”

            “It is. Don’t lie to me. You know what else no one knows? I died as well.”

            “You _what_?”

            “I died. Voldemort killed me. I came back. In the middle of the battle. That’s how we won. I let him kill me, and because I offered my life to protect everyone else, they couldn’t be harmed. I went past this world. I died. I was supposed to die. Except I came back to this place. I came back, and I’m supposed to carry on, but how the fuck do I do that? How are any of us supposed to do that?”

            What on earth do I say to that? I can’t get a handle on my own existence, let alone whatever has happened to Harry.

            “Do you know why?” I ask.

            “Not a clue. I saw Dumbledore, when I died. We talked, and he said I could choose. I was seventeen, of course I wanted to live. I didn’t know…he said to pity the living. I didn’t understand. But I do. I do.”

            I don’t have the words for him. Instead, I reach over and put a hand to the back of his head. I brush my thumb over his hair a few times as he chews on his lip, then I pull my hand away.

            “What is it about that place that pulls in all us broken half-breed boys?” Harry asks.

            “Hogwarts?” I say, a little surprised by the change in topic. “It only seems like it’s just us. Everyone goes there. A certain set of us, though—we seem to make a great deal of noise. We find one another. All our merry bands of outcasts.”

            “Even Voldemort, I suppose.”

            “I don’t think he ever thought he had an equal.”

            “No. I know he didn’t. They were all his…underlings. Pawns, more like. Why do you think—” Harry lets out a long sigh. “I can’t seem to shut up. I have so many questions. The people who were closest to my parents, they’re all gone. Or they were. Now that you’re here—and I don’t know if you might disappear again, and I just…I have so many questions.”

            “Better get it off your chest, then. It’s not as if I have plans.”

            “You’re not obligated to tell me anything. I have questions about things that…if it was me in your shoes, I’d tell me to sod off. If people wanted to know about what it was like between Hermione and Ron and I, it would feel invasive.”

            I shake my head. “There’s very little you could ask me that I would be uncomfortable sharing. You’re Lily Evans’ son. I would have plucked the moon from the sky if she asked me to.”

            Harry’s giving me a strange look. “And my dad?”

            “Well…your father died thinking that I was a spy for Voldemort. Perhaps it’s petty to still be stung by that after all these years. Sirius, at least I could rage at him if I wanted to. But he was so broken by Azkaban that there didn’t seem a point. Don’t get me wrong. I would have killed for your father. I did kill for your father. I would have died for him. But he didn’t trust me. Lily—Lily always saw the truth of things. You know, she was the first person to shake my hand at Hogwarts. Just after I was sorted. People always went on about what friends the four of us boys were, because that makes for a better story, but your mother and I were close as well. I always had a habit of finding female friends who were stronger than a group of childish marauders.”

            I’d like to think that I’ve steered us away from dangerous territory, but Harry’s not going to be deterred. He turns in his seat, determined. “That doesn’t make any sense. How can you say my dad didn’t trust you, but Mum did? They chose Peter as their secret keeper together. Right?”

            I tap my fingertips together. I could lie to him. But he’s a grown man, and I don’t think a lie would satisfy him. “Harry,” I say, trying to convey the answer in the lilt of my voice.

            He shoves himself to his feet, walking a few feet away from me. Turning back, Harry raises a hand. “Are you telling me—they didn’t tell my mother? The three of them—Sirius, Peter, my _father_ —no one told my mother that Peter was going to be their secret keeper?”

            I look at him. “No.”

            Harry gazes at me with an open mouth, then says, “I’ll kill him.”

            “Who? We’re all dead.”

            “I don’t know! Sirius, I suppose, since he’s the closest. But my dad—Jesus! I knew he was an idiot, but this is—” He lets his head fall back and shouts inarticulately at the sky.

            “Harry,” I reason. “He was 21—”

            “I had to save the bloody world when I was 17, so he doesn’t get a pass at 21—”

            “He had a wife and child to think about. It changes things. It changes things in ways you don’t ever expect. I understand why he did what he did. I’m not angry. Everyone paid for the choices they made. More than paid. Sit down, Harry. Come now. Sit down.”

            He reluctantly returns, thumping back down on the stool. “How could you forgive Sirius?” he asks. “Did you forgive Peter?”

            “Everyone paid,” I say again. “Peter got what he deserved. Sirius…Sirius suffered in Azkaban all those years. Then we finally got him back, and he died. It’s not a question of whether he deserves to be forgiven at this point. He was young and paranoid and made a bad decision. We all made bad decisions in those days. There’s no map for how you should behave when you’re fighting a war that the majority of the world isn’t even aware of. Sirius…is my best friend. Always has been. But just because he was my best friend didn’t mean I was his. Your dad came first. He did what he thought he needed to protect James. It’s a long time, Harry. Me saying I’m still hung up on pieces of it is just the irrational side of my brain.”

            “I don’t have to forgive him.”

            “He was your father, he did his best—”

            “Not him. Sirius.”

            “You two—you were thick as thieves before he died. Now you have him back, and you want to be cross with him?”

            Harry squares his jaw. “We wanted something from each other that we weren’t able to give. I needed an adult, he needed me to be my father. I know that now—”

            “You don’t know a bloody thing,” I snap. “You don’t know what he was like before Azkaban, so you don’t get to pass judgment on what he was or wasn’t when he came out. We were lucky he could put a sentence together. You were all hurt by the war. You don’t have a monopoly on not getting what you wanted.”

            I stop. What am I getting irritated with him for? It’s Harry Potter. He’s only telling me what he thinks. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

            “Sorry, Harry,” I say. “Defensive, I guess.”

            He’s studying me. I reach down for the bag, just to have something to do with my hands. It’s heavy. More than one month’s supply.

            “Ask you something?”

            I don’t imagine I’ll like what the question is, but I say blandly, “If you like.”

            Harry says, “Are you in love with Sirius?”

            I untie the string at the top of the bag, so that I might tie it again, only more neatly.

            “It never really occurred to me when you were alive. I was a bit busy at the time to think about people’s…personal lives. Then there was you and Tonks, and I thought you both loved one another. All this time, I thought you seemed so miserable that year because you were worried Teddy would be a werewolf. I thought that’s why you left that one time. Only seeing you two together now—you and Sirius—it doesn’t seem like a new thing.” Harry asks, “Did you ever love her?”   

            I get to my feet. “I think I’m finished with answering questions.”

            Harry starts blushing. “Remus—fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked any of that, I didn’t mean to—”

            “You should be getting back to school,” I say. “Thank you for coming round.”

            He’s still trying to apologize when I shut the door on him and his questions.


	23. 38

When I was 38, my son was born. I held my wife’s hand when she needed me to, stepped away when she asked, kissed her forehead when it was all said and done.

            Throughout the whole thing, all I felt was dread. When the viscous little figure was out in the world, being wrapped snugly in a blanket, that feeling did not increase or decrease. In the womb, out of it, the question still remained.

            Andromeda put the child on Dora’s chest. I watched the two of them together. My hand was on her head, and I was leaning over them, ostensibly part of the scene, but I felt outside of it. Mother and child, two people who would love one another unconditionally. I was full of conditions.

            Dora let out an exhausted breath, staring at her son. She touched his face with trembling fingers. “Look at what we’ve done, Remus.”

            There was wonder in her voice. _Yes,_ I thought. _Look at what we’ve done_.

            She swallowed, then said, “I wish Dad could have seen him.” Her voice caught, and she started to cry.

            Andromeda ran a hand over her shin. “He would have been so happy, sweetheart. I know he’s proud.”

            Dora kept touching the baby’s face. “I want to name him Edward,” she said.

            “Of course,” I replied.

            Andromeda said, “Sweetheart, there’s still the rest. Come on.” Andromeda was wiping her own tears from her eyes.

            Nodding, Dora lifted the baby slightly towards me.

            I hadn’t held a baby since Harry and Neville. Still, I slipped my hands beneath him and raised him into my arms. He was squalling, and I tucked him into the crook of my arm.

            And…I don’t know, precisely. Holding him like that, things suddenly seemed very different. I could feel his weight, I could see the shape of his mouth as it opened and closed. His small, red face, the shock of hair on his head. His arm slipped free, a little fist waving in the air. I gently caught it and adjusted the blanket around him.

            “Edward’s too serious for a baby,” Andromeda said.

            “Teddy, then,” Dora said.

            He cracked his eyes open, and I could see my own looking back from this small, peculiar thing.

            “Yes,” I said. “Teddy.”

 

Everyone had fallen asleep except for me. The house was dark and quiet. I lay in bed next to Dora, eyes open, flat on my back.

            Under the window, Teddy lay in his crib. I had watched him like a hawk ever since we put him there. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I had gone from dread to something else entirely in the span of a few hours. Or a few seconds, I wasn’t quite sure. I felt a kind of—apprehension. Only it was mixed with a lightness I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before in my life.

            He began to squirm a bit beneath the starlight, and it was all the excuse I needed. I slipped from the bed, walking to his crib. He was starting to kick his legs. I reached down, wrapping the blanket around him, then I picked him up into my arms. I moved him so that his head could lie on my shoulder. Bouncing him up and down ever so slightly, it seemed like all the old ways came back effortlessly.

            Dora mumbled, “Is he all right?” It must have taken a herculean effort for her to even wake. The labour had lasted eighteen hours.

            “He’s fine. Get some sleep. I’ll watch him a little while.”

            She made a sound, then immediately fell back asleep.

            I walked with him down the stairs, looking for a place where we could be alone. I thought we could sit in the front room, but I found Andromeda asleep on the sofa. The kitchen seemed too close, because I wanted to have a bit of a chat with him, and I didn’t want her listening in.

            So—I took him down to the morgue.

            Turning on the light, keeping his tiny body firmly against mine, I said, “Sorry. It’s not exactly cheerful down here, but it’s only a room. This place hasn’t been in use since your grandfather had to leave.” I sighed, looking around. Ted had always kept it well lit and homey. Still, I was having second thoughts about bringing my five-hour-old son down where bodies had normally been kept.

            Too late for second thoughts. I walked past the autopsy table, pulled out a chair, and took a seat. I moved Teddy so that I could look at his face.

            It was too early to say who he would take after. Besides, I had already watched his hair turn green. His face would be an everchanging one. I found that a relief.

            “I owe you an apology,” I said quietly.

            He moved slightly, opening his mouth in what had to be a very large yawn for him.

            I hesitantly touched his hair. “Your father is broken. That’s not your fault, and I don’t want you to ever think that it is. I wasn’t very excited for you to be here. I’m sorry for that. I worry that I’ll make you think I would have been happier if you weren’t here. That’s not the truth. I’m just not a happy person. That’s nothing to do with you. That’s me, and only me.

            “I’ve been so worried about what you being here would do to me that I didn’t think all that much about what you would think of the world. Like I said—broken. Only now that you’re here, and I can see you—touch you—you’re very real. You’re a person. You’re not a thing that’s here to hurt me. You’re your own boy.

            “My parents loved me, but they would have been better off had I not been there. When I was five, I was attacked. It happened because of something my father did. It wasn’t his fault, it was the fault of a very bad man. But it changed our family. My parents lived in constant fear of what I would do. What I would be. I think that’s how I’ve felt about you these past nine months. That’s how they taught me to feel about children. That it would be better to have none at all than one who was…different.

            “Except you’re here, and I am very, very happy. Well…I’m a little happy. And I haven’t been at all happy in a long time. So this little light inside me that you put there, it feels miraculous. It feels like a flame that could be kindled into something larger. I don’t expect you to make me happy. I don’t expect you to fix me. That’s not your responsibility. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to take care of me, that you have to be a certain way to make me happy. You don’t ever have to worry about that. I’ll tell you my secrets now, when you can’t understand, but when you’re old enough, I’ll do all I can to protect you from this side of me. I won’t let you know. I promise, I won’t let you know.”

            Where I touched his hair, it shimmered blue. The colour followed my finger in small waves.

            “I don’t love your mother,” I told him. “I made a terrible mistake there. I married her because I gave up and just did what people told me to instead of being true to myself. That has nothing to do with you. Whatever happens between her and I, we will both do everything in our power to keep you out of it. That’s not for you to worry about, though I know you will. Children always worry about their parents. The trick, I think, is to be a parent who makes that burden the lightest they can for their child.

            “All this time, I’ve been saying that I was going to die. That we all were. But you’ve gone and made that impossible, haven’t you? Who will look after you if we die? I will tear down the walls of reality itself if you’re harmed. I was lying awake upstairs, thinking about Greyback. He’s a sadist. He would have killed me when I was a child. He killed your grandfather. He has a taste for our family. He’ll come after you. And his master—that bloody coward whose name I can’t say because of the taboo—he’ll let him. We will be a prize for him. So there’s only one thing for it.

            “We will kill the Dark Lord. We will kill Greyback. We will win, so that you can live. If that means me having to live a long happy life, then I’ll do that for you. It will be quite the change from what I anticipated, but we never get what we hope for. That’s frightening, isn’t it. I’m sitting here saying that you’ll be all right, but I’m also saying things don’t go according to plan. There’s a whole new fear in my heart when it comes to you.

            “I’m sorry I thought I wouldn’t love you if you were a werewolf. I’m sorry it took me seeing you to realize I’d love you regardless. I love you, little one. I love you with all of my broken heart.”

            I brought him up a few inches, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

            Keeping my mouth close to him, I whispered the last of my secrets. “Your mother named you Edward Remus, but that’s not your real name. You have a secret name, just as I do. Your name is Edward Sirius Lupin. It’s a reminder—I promise to love you as much as I loved him.” I lifted him onto my shoulder and closed my eyes. “Edward Sirius. Edward Sirius.”

            It was a promise that was surprisingly easy to keep.


	24. Favourite Things

I go to see him in the morning because to see him is my favourite thing.

            I have to keep myself from monopolizing all of Sirius’ time. I usually see him once a day, but not always. Sometimes he’s just gone, roving the hills in his dog form, or doing something that I don’t know about. If he’s not in the house, I’ll go back to mine, and pretend that I don’t feel cheated.

            Most of the time, though, we’ll go for walks, or we’ll sit and read. I find it difficult to focus on things lately. It’s easier when Sirius is there. I’ve been trying my best to cook, as has he. We’ve nearly poisoned one another several times, which he thinks is hilarious.

            Knocking on the door, I take a step back. I run a hand over my hair, clearing my throat.

            “It’s open, Moony!”

            Opening the door, I say, “Morning.”

            Sirius is nowhere to be seen. The front room is strewn with all manner of fabric and sewing implements, the purpose of which I could not say. He’s haphazardly decorated the walls by spelling random things to the stone. It smells of the forest in here. His house is much more comfortable than mine. He’s settling in.

            I go to a chair, lifting some patterns so that I can sit. “It looks like a bomb went off in a robe shop.”

            “I can’t be bothered to put it all away. Every time I do, I need it back out again. Did you already eat?”

            “I did.”

            “Thank Merlin. I accidentally set the eggs on fire. I settled for cold oatmeal.” Sirius walks out from the bedroom, in trousers with his shirt sleeves rolled up. Nothing else, not even socks. God, he looks…good. I can see his tattoos, but it looks like something he owns instead of something owning him. His hair is glossy and he’s clean shaven. When I look at him, he seems like a man in his mid thirties instead of a wraith outside of time. “Big day.”

            I nod, folding the patterns. “We’ll see how it goes.”

            Sirius groans. “Remus, try to be optimistic. You’ll give yourself more wrinkles than you already have.”

            “My wrinkles are a mark of experience.”

            “Your wrinkles are a result of you being sour.” Sirius claps his hands together. “I have something for you.”

            “You what?”

            He nearly sprints across the room, picking up a little pile of fabric from the kitchen table. “You’ll have to try it on first, so I can see if I should make any adjustments.” Sirius comes over to me, pushing the fabric into my hands. “There. Go on, give it a chance.”

            Startled, I say, “You…made me something?”

            “First one I finished that I’m actually pleased with. I knew you were going to see Teddy in your usual drab, but that won’t do. You should be in something handsome to see your boy. Not that I’m being immodest or anything.” He waves me on to the bedroom. “Go! I’ll need a few minutes to fix it if anything is amiss.”

            Hesitantly, I stand up. I don’t say anything, I just go to the bedroom, closing the door after myself.

           

I don’t quite recognize myself. That happens if you really stop to look at yourself in a mirror. At least, if you’re not the sort of person constantly looking at yourself in the mirror.

            I look different. It’s the clothes. It is absolutely the clothes. The robes are a warm tan that makes my grey-brown hair look distinguished instead of world weary. The shirt is off-white, and the sleeves of the jacket come down to the base of my fingers, split down the side to the wrist, curling back slightly to show the silken lining. The cufflinks match the buttons of the vest, some lovely brown stone. The whole outfit has been cut flawlessly, better than anything I’ve ever worn. I haven’t had anything fit me this nicely since I was twenty and Sirius insisted on taking me to his tailor as a birthday present.

            Standing in front of the full length mirror, I touch the collar of the shirt. The cut of the sleeves makes my hands look lithe instead of bony. It all makes me look…quite nice.

            I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this. I’ve never cared for my appearance. How do I react when I look presentable?

            “Remus, the suspense is _actually_ going to kill me, and I’m already dead,” Sirius says from outside the door.

            “You can come in.”

            He cracks open the door, and I wait. I might think that I look all right, but he knows more about these things than I do. He’ll be able to spot whatever is wrong.

            Sirius stands there, looking at me. Eventually, a slow smile comes over his face. “Perfect.”

            I blush, looking away.

            Sirius walks into the room, a tie in each hand. “I wasn’t sure which you’d favour.”

            “I don’t bloody know,” I mumble.

            “Hopeless,” he murmurs, stopping in front of me. He holds up a caramel coloured tie to my chest, then one only a few shades off from the tan of my robes. Sirius mulls it over, then tosses the latter onto the bed. He hooks the tie around my neck, then goes about knotting it. “This goes nicely with the buttons. Do you like it?”

            “It’s very nice.”

            “Come now, that’s an understatement. You look fetching as fuck.” His nimble fingers push the knot up to my throat, then he folds the collar over. “There,” Sirius breathes, stepping back. His eyes are taking in his work, only I can’t help but feel that he’s looking at me.

            I pull the sides of the cape out a little. “I didn’t actually expect you to be good at this.”

            “I know you didn’t.” Sirius steps to my side, looking at me in the mirror. He starts tugging at the robes lightly, checking the fit, I suppose. “You see how this colour looks on you? This is what you should be wearing. Not old clothes that you’ve just worn to death.”

            “You know more about this than I do.”

            “Yes, I know, which is why I’m telling you what to wear. You’d better get used to this. You’re the only mannequin I have, so you’ll be testing out most of what I make, regardless of whether it’s your colour or not.”

            “How did you—get it to fit so well?”

            “I’ve been looking at you for decades.” Sirius stops, then amends, “Waiting for the day you’d finally let me dress you. I wasn’t going to fuck up the opportunity when I got it.” He moves to my back, running his fingers across the shoulder seams. “You’ve narrow shoulders and you slouch, so there’s a bit of an edge at the sleeve head to make them appear more square.” His hand ghosts down my side. “Vest cut a bit loose to disguise that middle aged spread.”

            I roll my eyes, still a touch embarrassed about the weight around my midsection. “Yes, yes.”

            “Don’t be cross. If the wrinkles are a sign of experience, this might be as well.” He pokes me in the stomach, and I slap his hand away. Sirius bares his teeth, then continues his appraisal downwards. “You’ve always had those long legs, so you never buy the right size. I can see your ankles most of the time. These trousers actually touch the top of your shoes—stars above, Remus. Look at those _shoes_.”

            “My shoes are fine—”

            Sirius has already drawn his wand, hitting my brown leathers with a spell. They age backwards, regaining their shine, the creases disappearing from them, the stain on the side vanishing.

            “If it seems that you don’t care about what you wear, people will assume you don’t care about yourself. They’ll take advantage.”

            “If it seems you care too much about what you wear, people will assume you’re arrogant and avoid you.”

            “Good,” Sirius replies. “I’m discerning about my friends. I’ve only room for the one at present.” He puts his wand away, then sets his hands on the back of his hips, cocking his head. “Enough about what I think of it. What do you think?”

            I look at him in the mirror. I am astounded by him more and more each day.

            “It’s lovely,” I say honestly.

            Sirius smiles and steps away. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling his ankle up onto his knee. “What do you think you’ll do with Teddy today?”

            We haven’t discussed Teddy much. It’s not even because he avoids the subject. He’s tried prompting me here and there, I just…haven’t been able to approach it.

            “I’m not sure. Stay around the house. Where he feels safe. Harry says he’s quite keen on reading, so I have some books I liked when I was his age. We could discuss them.” Sirius has raised a brow at me, and I say, “You can keep your judgments to yourself. I’m already aware I don’t know how to be a father.”

            “I wasn’t going to say that at all. I was just going to say that sounds boring.” Sirius gives me an evil grin. “I have something you could give him.”

            Crossing my arms, I say reluctantly, “Just promise me it doesn’t explode.”

            Sirius hops back to his feet, going to his bedside table. He opens a drawer and—oh no.

            “You can’t be serious,” I say.

            Innocently, he replies, “I’m always Sirius.”

            “That’s never been funny.”

            “It’s always been funny,” Sirius counters, bringing me the Marauder’s Map.

            I take it, looking at the ostensibly blank piece of parchment. “Where on Earth did you find this?”

            “Harry came around yesterday.” Sirius sticks his hands in his pockets, raising his shoulders. “He stayed a few hours. We chatted.”

            “You did?”

            “Mm. He’s had this fifteen years. Longer than we ever had. He said he thought it should go back to its rightful owners.”

            “I am not giving this to my ten-year-old.”

            “You don’t have to. I’m only saying—books are fine, and all that, but adventure—well, that’s what they _write_ books about.”

            Sighing, I draw my wand. Tapping it to the parchment, I say, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” The ink curls into place. Our old names appear. We four. We strange four. “We should have never had this.”

            “We made it. It was a team effort.”

            “Yes, but—we were children. We shouldn’t have had something so—powerful.”

            “Remus—you made it. We had a brilliant time. We were good kids. All right, James and I were idiots, and—” Sirius makes a sound in his throat instead of saying _Peter._ “—wasn’t worth the air he breathed, but still…we were good kids. We had adventures and we had a grand time. The map’s only dangerous if you’re dangerous. We weren’t dangerous. Often.”

            “I’m not giving this to Teddy. I want him to survive Hogwarts, not go looking for trouble in every corner. Also, it’s a terrible invasion of privacy—”

            “When did you get so old?”

            “Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere between 38 and dying.” I look at all the miniscule footsteps walking over the school, names of unknown people moving past. Some of the surnames are familiar to me. The children of people I taught, perhaps? “I don’t want him to feel that he has to be like me. I’d rather he not be like me, in any possible way. Besides, Harry wouldn’t have given this to you with the intention of it going to Teddy. He’s a professor. He wouldn’t want this in a hands of a child.”

            “I think he understands more about being a child than you do. And I think he knows it’ll end up with Teddy eventually.”

            “Is that what he said?”

            Sirius shrugs. “He might have implied it.” Sirius pauses, then says, “He said you two might have gotten into it a bit.”

            I look at the map, trying to find Harry. “Not really.”

            “He said you were upset with him.”

            “No. We were talking, and I was tired.”

            “He said he asked one too many questions.”

            I find him. He’s in Hagrid’s shack. “Did he tell you the entire conversation and you’re being coy, or are you fishing for information?”

            “I just…the two of you seem to have really gotten on. Since we came back. And I don’t want to see you lose that.”

            “You said you had a chat. It went well?”

            “We discussed a lot of things. A lot of things we should have discussed a long time ago. I feel good about it. He seems to as well. Whatever he said that set you off, I hope—” Sirius stops, then smiles. “None of my business, Remus. It’s your life.”

            In consternation, I say, “Whatever happened to you beyond the Veil, it’s entirely unfair that you’re all sorted and I’m not.”

            “I wouldn’t say that. Besides, all you need is time. Here, have another look.” He puts a hand to my back, turning me to face the mirror again.

            I look at myself. The long face, with its scars across the nose. I’ve trimmed my mustache and small beard. I look…normal. I look like someone who’s alive.

            “You look…” Sirius takes a breath. He reaches up, touching the hairs at the nape of my neck. It sends a flurry of electricity through me. It’s all I can do to not shut my eyes against it. “You look quite handsome.”

            He is still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. “Thank you.”

            He slips away, nodding towards the other room. “Let me show you what else I’m working on. You can give me your completely unfounded opinion.”

            I nod, relieved and disappointed to have him away from me. If I was a braver man, I would latch onto him before he could get too far.

            Except I follow Sirius through the door, and I keep my distance.

 

My father and I were never close. My clearest early memory of my father is from when I was already changed. He was lecturing me about how I couldn’t play with the Muggle children next door. He had the same look on his face he had all the years I knew him. An English façade of stoicism with guilt and terror mixing dangerously underneath.

            I don’t know that my father was ashamed of me. That’s not true. I knew that I exhausted he and my mother. They lived in fear that their secret would be revealed. That I would hurt someone, that I’d be taken away, that something else bad would happen. Years of living like that can drain a person. When it comes to shame, I always feared that my parents were ashamed of me. For any number of reasons.

            After Teddy was born, I thought a lot about my parents. Of course, I thought a great deal about them before he was born, but in a different light. Before he came, I considered their behaviour an example. They were the only parents of werewolves that I had known. Their fear appeared to make the most sense.

            When he came, though, that behaviour seemed like an absolute waste. There was this perfect little human in my hands. He knew nothing about the world. He knew nothing of guilt, he knew nothing of shame. If I treated him the way that my parents did, he would live a life like I had. The thought of doing that to another human was unbearable.

            So those weeks I had with him, whenever I needed to act as a father, I made a conscious effort to do the opposite of what my father would have done. I told my child all my secrets. I gave him every scrap of affection I had. I made plans for him. I remembered what it was to hope, and I put all my hope into my son. My father could have done none of those things.

            I don’t mean to vilify my father, nor my mother. They were shaped by a terrible situation, one that my father blamed himself for. Fenrir Greyback targeted me because my father upset him. When I became a father, I understood how that was the greatest punishment of all. Love might be the most powerful magic in the world, but it also gives the bad tremendous leverage over the good. Greyback got his revenge, a thousand fold.

            Even though I can understand why my parents raised me the way they did, I resolved to not treat my child that way. That remains unchanged.

            I have no idea what my place is in this world. It’s like there’s room for eight at a table, and I’m the ninth unexpected guest. People have their lives, and reincorporating the dead is not a part of that. I don’t know how to move. I don’t know how to be.

            I don’t know how to spend my time. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that I fall more in love with Sirius with each passing day. I don’t know if this is all going to end, or how it will end.

            The only thing of which I am certain is that I cannot and will not miss this opportunity to be a father to my child. I failed so frequently, so spectacularly, all my life. This is the one thing that I cannot fail at.

            I’m a father. That’s not enough. I need to be a good father.

           

I appear on the edge of the lawn with a bag over my shoulder. It holds books. Regardless of what Sirius might think, I can tell that my son will prefer books to a quaffle.

            The place looks relatively unchanged in the ten years that have passed. A little rundown. The gutters need cleaning and some of the paint is peeling. I never thought I would see that from the home of Andromeda Tonks. There’s a wide circle around the house where the grass has been spelled short, but beyond that clean line, it grows halfway up my shins.

            I look around, searching for what I know is here. I find it in the fields that are no longer worked. Two stones.

            I make myself look away. Today is about building something, not obsessing over what’s done and gone. So shoulders back, head up, and pretend like you know this will go well.

            The clothes make me feel better. Thank God for Sirius. It hadn’t even occurred to me to wear anything other than my usual rags. He said that clothes can give a boost of confidence that reality doesn’t. I’ll take every advantage I can get.

            Hiking the bag higher, I walk across the lawn.

            I have so many things to tell him. More than that, however, I want to hear all he has to say. I want to know who my son is. I want him to tell me who he is.

            That’s all I want, really. To have a conversation with my boy. My stomach is churning, and my skin feels stretched tight. That’s not all just nervousness. The weeks are wearing on. I need to do this now. I want to carry this with me through the hard times.

            I can do this. I can do this. I can—

            The door opens, and when Andromeda steps out, I know it’s not going to happen.

            Arms crossed, she says, “Remus.”

            I slow my step until I can stop in front of her. “Andromeda,” I say quietly.

            “I’m afraid it’s not a good day to do this.”

            I feel a slick of anger work its way through me. Keeping my face blank, I ask, “May I ask why?”

            “It’s not a good day for Teddy.”

            “Did he decide that or did you?”

            Any neutrality in her face vanishes, and she takes another step forward so that she’s completely blocking the doorway. “He’s locked himself in his room. I’m not going to say I blame him.”

            Keep your temper. She’s the gatekeeper, and she can make things very difficult for you if you don’t at least behave with civility. “Andromeda—I know it’s a difficult situation. But we need to think ahead. This might stop and I could be gone again. How will he feel in ten years if he missed this?”

            “I doubt you’ll disappear, Remus. Even if you did, you always have a habit of turning up again.”

            I take a deep breath, then set the bag down by the doorstep. “I brought some books for Teddy. He and I can discuss them the next time I come.”

            “You can wait until I let you know that it’s a good time.”

            “No. We’ll do this once. I don’t know if he’s frightened of me or if you’re just being spiteful. If he’s legitimately frightened, or frightened because you told him to be. But he is my son, and regardless of your thoughts on the subject, that doesn’t negate the fact. I’ll be back in a few days.”

            “You have no rights here—”

            “Andromeda,” I say, frustrated, “if you’re doing this to hurt me, I could understand that. But it’s not what Dora would have wanted, and you know it. I’ll be back.”

            I turn and start walking away, livid. I haven’t been properly angry in awhile. I haven’t known what I wanted for myself. I want _my son_.

            Andromeda calls out, “Wait just a second!”

            I stop, looking over my shoulder.

            Andromeda has come down the steps, looking every inch a Black in her rage. “I have a question for you,” she snaps.

            “Fine. What is your question?”

            “Why isn’t my daughter here?”

            Yes. Let’s just cut to the heart of things. Let’s find where it hurts the most and jab at it.

            “I can’t even say I’m surprised that you somehow appeared again to hurt my family. You always did, bringing misery with you every single time. Resilient as a cockroach. So damned resilient that you pulled yourself back from death. Only this time you brought someone with you, and why isn’t it _her_?”

            There’s nothing I can say to that, and she knows it.

            Andromeda continues, “We all know why it’s not her, why it’s him. It’s a terrible joke, Remus Lupin. You married my daughter to cover your infatuation with my cousin, and she refused to believe it, and you killed my daughter. Now you’re back. You’re back, and you have the gall to bring him with you. It’s sickening. You want to come here after my husband, my daughter, they died because of you. You want to come back here with the one you really loved, and take _my_ grandson? Have you no shame? Have you _no_ shame?”

            I’ve gone pale. I can feel it.

            Andromeda glares at me, then shouts, “Why are you _here_?!”

 

 _Why are you here_?

 

            My knees start to give, and I force myself to stay upright.

            Andromeda is walking back to the house, and she’s slamming the door behind herself, and I just stand here. I feel the world rushing all around me, a great ocean in my ears.

            I swallow several times. It’s like things are tilting.

            The world. There is something wrong with the world.

            I’m walking away. I’m walking to the stones in the field. I’m staggering to the stones in the field.

            Why am I here. Of course he wouldn’t come to the door. Of course he wouldn’t want to see me. Of course I wasn’t welcome. Of course.

 

 _Of course_.

 

            My legs fail me and I fall in front of the stones. I catch myself on my hands, taking huge heaving breaths. My heart is exploding and imploding in quick succession, over and over.

            Our gravestones are simple and grey. Her bones rest beneath me in the ground. The headstone reads, ‘Nymphadora Tonks 1973-1998. Wife, Mother, Phoenix.’ She lies beneath me. She’s gone.

            I look at my own headstone. I know there is nothing beneath me. Did they bury an empty coffin?

                                               

Remus John Lupin

1960-1998

Husband

Father

Friend

 

            Of course this is where they would bury me.

            Of course.

 

When I hit the ground, I’m already running. I was too upset to get it right, and I’ve come out too far from Sirius’ house. I can see it, I can see the lights on.

            It is dark. I don’t know where I was. I wandered. I thought. Things pulled themselves apart.

            “SIRIUS!” I scream.

            I run harder than I have in years. I used to run when I was young. I’d run around the Black Lake and my friends would try to keep up with me, but they never could. I was the fastest.

            The moon shines on my neck. I feel it, whispering, threatening to turn me inside out.

            I see the door to the house open. Sirius stands there a moment, then he starts running to me. “Remus?” he calls.

            I need him. I need to touch him, I need to grab onto him, I need something real.

            We make short work of the distance between us. I snatch onto his sleeves, almost pulling him off his feet. Sirius lets out a sound of surprise, but he grabs onto my arms, worried.

            “What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

            I look at him in the moonlight. His glossy hair, his healthy face, how he looks happy and whole.

            I push him away.

            “We’re still in the Veil,” I tell him. “We didn’t come back. We’re still in the Veil.”


	25. 38 and After

When I was thirty-eight, I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts.

            The castle was coming apart around me. Chunks were blown out of the walls. Spells flew every which way. Inanimate objects suddenly came alive and joined the fray. I was nearly bowled over by a herd of feral, murderous desks charging the halls.

            Hogwarts was being destroyed, and I was in the thick of it.

            Wand in hand, I battled my way through corridors and dashed from one end of the school to the other through secret passages. There were only two other men who knew the architecture of Hogwarts as well as I. Fred and George and I nearly hexed one another when we unexpectedly met in the tunnels above the kitchen. Without skipping a beat, George grabbed my hand and began vigorously shaking it. “Congratulations, old man,” he said with mock pomposity.

            “Spiffing work,” Fred added, elbowing George aside and pumping my hand up and down. “I’m sure he’s just as handsome as you are.”

            Stepping aside, I pointed back the way I came. “I just passed Percy.”

            They immediately went stricken. “We’d better go save him,” George said as they jogged past me. “He suddenly developed a spine.”

            Fred called back, “He’ll probably get himself killed!”

            I pushed my hair away from my forehead, trying to catch my breath as I moved forward. My clothes were torn, and I felt blood dripping down my neck. It was barely a trifle. I’d done worse to myself by the full moon.

            It was a relief to get to that moment. Even with all the suffering I knew that night would inevitably hold, this was the end. We would defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters once and for all, then get on with our lives.

            I thought of Teddy as I made my way east, where I’d heard Greyback had been seen. Before we left the house, I’d held him for ten precious seconds. I stood with him by the window, my face low to his. He was asleep. He was the most beautiful thing that had ever been. I touched his tiny fingers, breathed his perfect scent, thought his secret name. I wished him all the things I never had. Then he let out the loudest fart I’d ever heard from an infant.

            When I let go of my son for the last time, I was laughing.

            Winning this war no longer had anything to do with right or wrong. It was not about settling scores. It was simply about making this madness stop so that someday my son could live to be an old man.

            I had no illusions about my chances for survival. People were dying all around me. The universe did not care that I had a newborn son; Lily and James proved that. Maybe I would die in this battle. Only I wanted desperately to live. Not for myself, but for him.

            If I did die, his mother would take care of him. No child could have asked for a better mother than Dora. She was thankfully tucked away in the Room of Requirement. She would survive this mess and she would make sure our child was kind, was fun, was good.

            My job was to help win this battle. I had another mission as well. That was why I meant to find Greyback.

            However, when I came through the hidden door behind the griffin statue, I was nearly struck by a violent arc of purple electricity. Leaping from the doorway, I watched the spell shear the head off the griffin. On my knees, I looked up.

            Across the hall, Antonin Dolohov stood with his wand outstretched. When he saw that it was me, he grinned. “Excellent,” he purred.

            I could see the tattoos coming down his arms, up his neck. Here was a true prisoner of Azkaban. A man who deserved his sentence, yet walked free. And Sirius was nowhere to be found.

            I surged to my feet, yelling, “ _Bombarda Maxima_!”

            I saw Dolohov’s eyes widen as he leapt aside. A hole blew through the side of the building. If he thought we were going to duel, or that I would abide by some ideal of restraint, he was sorely mistaken. I aimed to kill that night.

            He tried to throw that curse of his at me, the one that would turn a person’s insides to bloodied jam. I put up a silver shield and the spell rebounded down the hallway. As I whisked the shield away, Dolohov screamed, “ _Defodio_!”

            I felt an awful punch as a chunk was torn from my left arm. Reacting, I cast, “ _Everte Statum_!” Dolohov was tossed back several metres as I cast a fast healing charm at my wound. I couldn’t afford the blood loss, not in the middle of a fight.

            Dolohov climbed to his feet. Any excitement he might have felt for battling me had been replaced by livid sourness. I tightened my grip on my wand.

            “ _Expulso_!” he roared.

            I dodged around the spell, running towards Dolohov. I could feel the pressure building in the air until it burst, showering us both with chips of rocks. We threw curses and hexes and spells at one another, making the air bright with flame and taking gouges from the floor and walls.

            He disgusted me. He was beneath me. Every command he gave, I had seen him cast before in the Department of Mysteries. Dolohov was a lower tier wizard, a lower tier Death Eater.

            Yet somehow he stood before me, when better men were lost.

            I lost my temper. “ _Impedimenta_!”

            I tore him off his feet. He was so startled that he fumbled his wand.

            Releasing him for a split second, I shouted, “ _Alarte Ascendare_!”

            I flung him into the air so hard that he dented the ceiling. Dolohov dropped to the ground with such finality that I was certain I must have killed him. I waited a moment, watching blood trickle from his ears and nose. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, braziers blasted from the walls, if he still breathed.

            “Lupin.”

            His voice.

            I turned to face the oldest of my nightmares.

            Fenrir Greyback was a hulking figure, with grey matted hair and a faceful of stubble. He held his wand down at his side, clicking his long, stained fingernails against it. To anyone else, he would have looked like just another unsavoury dark wizard.

            To me, he was something else entirely. When I was five years old, I went to sleep one night, just another young boy. A little bookish, still sleeping with a stuffed dragon, looking forward to an outing at the zoo the next day. I closed my eyes on my old life and woke in the dark to find this thing biting through my arm.

            This was the man who made me what I was. Who broke apart my family, piece by pitiful piece. This man altered the course of my life over a slight, was the source of my shame, was what had made me separate for as long as I could remember.

            Even with all I had lived through, nothing frightened me so much as this monster, who I had pushed down deep into my secret places. My fear and hatred could not allow him to live in this world. Not the same world where my son lived and breathed.

            I wrapped my fingers one by one around my trusted wand. 10¼, cypress, unicorn hair. I wished for my old friends’ strength as I faced my original monster.

            “I have waited 33 years to kill you,” I said calmly.

            Greyback smiled.

            Then his face changed. Looking past me, he snarled, “No—”

            I turned my head.

            The last thing I saw was green light.

           

When I died, it seemed like the blink of the eyes, and I was outside.

            I knew I was dead. I understood that Dolohov had killed me when my back was turned. Yet I felt no panic, no sense of loss. After everything, it had finally happened. All my struggles were ended. I felt no pain, none of the old aches. I had seemingly been remade.

            Lily walked past me.

            I opened my mouth to say her name, but then James was at her side. The sight of them together struck me dumb. They were so _young_. In my mind, they would always be my contemporaries. The truth was that they had been little more than children.

            I looked to my side and saw Sirius. If I’d had a heart that could beat, it would have leapt. It had been two years, but it seemed like a decade had been shaved from him. He walked with his head up and shoulders straight. Cocky.

            I couldn’t help but smile. My friends. My beloved friends, with me in the Forbidden Forest.

            I saw Harry. I understood, too, that he was preparing to die.

            Lily went to him first. The way she looked at him, I knew that would be how I looked at my boy when I saw him again, hopefully far off in the future. Brave Lily, with her brave son. My boy would not have to be brave. He would only have to live.

            Harry would die so that Voldemort could be defeated. I knew it without knowing the reason. The world seemed light and sparkling and distant. I seemed to realize more with each second, but I was still at a far remove from my surroundings.

            “Does it hurt?”

            “Dying?” Sirius said, and his voice cut through the haze. I had not heard his voice in two years. “Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”

            Twenty-five years knowing the man, I could tell he was lying. I stepped in, saying, “And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over.”

            Had Sirius’ death hurt? He had merely gone through the Veil. I’d never allowed myself to believe it had been anything other than an easy transition.

            Sirius flicked his eyes from me to Harry, and I discovered that Harry was apologizing to me. Apologizing for my death. How was I to explain the truth to a seventeen-year-old who only wanted to live, deserved to live? I could not tell him how relieved I was. It would have been in bad taste.

            So I told him, “I am sorry too. Sorry I will never know him…but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”

            It was part truth, part convenient falsehood. I had fought so Teddy would have a chance, but I was not sorry. If he had to lose one of us, better it be me than his mother. My time was done, and now it was time for Dora and Teddy. And one day, I would know my son. We would all be reunited.

            We walked with Harry into the woods towards his death. To be honest, my attention was hardly on him. Harry would soon go through what I had. His suffering would finish.

            I could not stop looking at my friends. They were so beautiful, so young. James glanced at me and gave a wink. I smiled, happy and full.

            I looked at Sirius, a wave of contentment moving over me. We would be together. Whatever came next, we would all be in the same place. I could talk to him. I could say all the things I never had. If I was dead, what else was there to be afraid of?

            We moved towards the lights. Harry would soon face his final trial.

            Everything was going to be all right.

            I looked to Sirius again. The swagger had left his step. He met my eyes, and I saw despair.

            Alarmed, I reached for him. But Harry opened his hand, the Stone falling to the tree roots, and it was like something grabbed me by the waist, yanking me away before I could speak.

            If I had been able to say something, I would have said, _wait for me a little longer. I’m on my way._


	26. What I Deserve

“Remus, calm down.”

            Sirius has his hands up, but he doesn’t try to get near. I imagine I look like a mad person. I feel mad. I can’t believe I was so stupid. How could I fall for the same trick twice?

            “Did you hear what I said?” I sound hysterical, even to my own ears. “Did you hear me? We’re still in the Veil.”

            “No, Moony. We’re not.”

            I clasp my hands on top of my head. “Can’t you see it? Tell me you can see it.”

            Sirius inhales. “Remus, I was in the Veil for twelve years, and I knew I was there the entire time. I know what it feels like.”

            “This is different.”

            “Are you remembering?”

            “This is the Veil,” I insist.

            Sympathetic, Sirius replies, “No. If you remember any bit of the Veil, you’ll remember that it made itself to be what I wanted.” He gives a large wave towards our surroundings. “This isn’t that. This is real.”

            “It isn’t.”

            “Do you remember what it was like? Always good news, never bad. This place—bloody hell, Moony. Your son grew up with no parents. Arthur and Molly lost two children. Harry can hardly smile because the war killed his childhood. Take a look around. It’s ugly, and it’s real.”

            Hissing, I shake my head. “Real? In what truthful reality do we return from the grave? Do you honestly think we were resurrected because I pulled you back through the Veil? It isn’t possible!”

            “I don’t know how the magic of the Veil works—”

            “The Unspeakables do, and they can’t explain it. It’s just a big—” I give an exaggerated shrug. “Our brains have skipped the hard parts, just like in your heaven, only the end result is ludicrous. People can’t be resurrected. They simply _can’t_. Our being here is wishful thinking, not reality. And this—this is unbelievable.”

            Sirius says, “Stranger things than this have happened in the magical world.”

            “Have they? If they did, they at least made sense. This makes no sense. Two warriors who never had a chance at life are sent back to give it a second go.” Scoffing, I give my head another shake. “It’s cheap. It negates everything we did. It beggars belief.”

            “Or you’re just having a difficult time adjusting.” Before I can snap at him, Sirius points a finger at me. “This is not me trying to convince you to believe a lie, it’s me stating a fact. You’ve been an absolute fatalist since we were teenagers. You had your neat little narrative. Fight the Death Eaters until you were killed. You got your ending. Of course you don’t want to believe this is real. It goes against the story you’ve been telling yourself since we were kids. I was fine in the Veil, I’m fine here, because I’m not so damned set on reaching the end. I know you’re upset, but you need to realize that second chances aren’t the worst outcome in this situation. For pity’s sake—you get something miraculous. You get your son back.”

            “He’s not real.”

            Face falling, Sirius stares at me. “Remus. Don’t say that. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

            “He’s not real,” I repeat. I say it though my heart aches. I say it because it’s better to face an inconvenient truth than accept a happy lie. “This is a fantasy.”

            “Now you’re just being stubborn! Look around! This is not the Veil. Who would make this? Who would ever make a world like this?”

            “I would!”

            I have to turn away from him. The moon is pulling at my flesh. I feel my pulse beating insistently up my neck. I put my face in my hands, trying to catch my bearings.

            When Sirius speaks, his voice is too gentle. He’s coddling me. “Why would you think that?”

            “Because it’s true.”

            “No. Come now. The Veil, it gives us what we want. You can’t tell me this is what you want.”

            Laughing bitterly, I turn back around. “All that time in the Veil, and you still don’t understand.”

            “What are you—”

            “It’s not about what you want. It’s what you think you deserve. Your whole life, you’ve expected to get everything you want. You practically think it’s your birthright. But this world?” Nodding, I say hoarsely, “This is the world I deserve.”

            Sirius is speechless a moment. “What could you have done to deserve this?”

            I laugh again.

            “Remus! You’ve done nothing to deserve this!”

            “I did everything to deserve this. You can even see it in the things I wished for. Look at Harry. Look at what I did to poor Harry. A Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, old beyond his years, cut off from the people around him. A man who lost his friends too young, a man who returned from the dead. I won’t ask if you can spot the similarities; my subconscious was rather hamhanded with that one.”

            “You and Harry were always similar. Him following in your footsteps is a lot more likely than the future I imagined for him. After everything he went through, he wasn’t going to fight for a living. That was my ego.” I exhale, frustrated that he’s not listening to me. Sirius says, “You don’t deserve a world where people are unhappy. The world has just always been a place with unhappy people.”

            “I deserve this.”

            “Did something go wrong with Teddy? Is that why you’re saying this?”

            “I’m not saying this because something went wrong—”

            “But something did go wrong. What happened?”

            “He didn’t want to see me. Andromeda wouldn’t let me through the door.”

            Sirius pushes his hair back. I hate that look on his face. He thinks he knows what’s happening, but he doesn’t. “Just because you had a bad experience with Teddy doesn’t mean this is fake. It’s going to be hard, no one knows what they’re doing—”

            “It’s happening because it’s what I deserve.”

            “I don’t understand! You can’t hate yourself so much that you think you called this down on yourself!”

            “Why shouldn’t I?”

            Exasperated, Sirius says, “What is it you think you’ve _done_?”

            It is the question I have been waiting for. I spill open.

            “I was a coward! My whole life! So desperate to just go along, to be accepted, that I never took a stand. I let so many terrible things happen, only people acted as if I was a good man, that I was a righteous man, but I was no better than Peter. I let you all think I was good, but I was weak. I fled when I should have stayed, stayed when I should have gone, never spoke up unless I knew a stronger voice would back me.”

            “That sounds nothing like you—”

            “I let you and James torment children—”

            “You were a boy!”

            “I let my parents go years having to look after me, I nearly killed my mother—”

            “Remus, you have to calm down, you’re talking about things that happened as a child, things that weren’t your fault—”

            “I let you go to Azkaban!” I cry, and that shuts him up. “Everything I knew, knowing you the way I did, I knew there was no way you could ever turn on James and Lily. The sun might as well have fallen from the sky! I knew there was no way you could have been the spy, because I knew _you_ , but I believed it. I believed the lie. It took nothing to convince me. Peter was a functioning moron, and I fell for it. Do you know what it took to convince me? All they had to do was tell me, and I believed it. I didn’t fight for you. I let you go to Azkaban. For twelve years!” My voice cracks. I shake my head at him. “Twelve years, you suffered. Twelve years, because I didn’t fight for you. Twelve years, I hated you with my whole heart. Tell me I’m a good man. Tell me I deserve to be happy.”

            Sirius is taking short breaths. His eyes are wide, and his fingers look like claws.

            “I forgive you,” he says.

            “You can’t forgive me!” I shriek, then I cover my eyes.

            My head is too full. I am full with my sins.

            “Remus—if our positions had been reversed, I would have done the same. Anyone would have. We all have guilt from what happened those few days. We made bad choices, but it doesn’t mean we’re bad people. I did twelve years, yes, but so did you. I forgive you.”

            “Stop it.”

            “I can’t. You’re miserable, and you’re putting yourself in knots over it. Remus, you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, probably the best—”

            “Stop talking!” I’m shaking. I’m ill. “You don’t know.”

            “What don’t I know? What do you think I’ve missed, after all this time? You’re not a coward—you’re just sad—”         

            “That’s what she thought! That’s what she thought, that I was just sad. I tricked her. I’m not a coward? What about what I did to her?”

            “What did you do—”

            “I married her when I didn’t love her! I told her I loved her because everyone wanted me to. I married her, and when she got pregnant, I hated her. I hated her and I hated the child inside her, and every time I looked at them I was reminded of how spineless I was. I even left her when she was pregnant, but I came back because it was what I was supposed to do, and I lied again and told her I came back because I loved her, but I didn’t, and of course I don’t deserve to see my son! His mother should be here, but it’s me, because I need to be reminded of how I failed them both. She always loved him, but it took me by surprise, and what kind of man is surprised to discover he loves his own son?! God—I can’t even say her name. Dora. He should look like Dora, he should be like Dora, only he’s my twin because I need to be reminded of how I betrayed her—betrayed myself—betrayed you!” I pound a hand against my chest. “Do you understand what I’ve done?”

            Helpless, Sirius just stands there.

            “You died, and a year later I married someone else. Someone I didn’t love. After every time I turned you down, even though I loved you most, I acted like it didn’t matter. I didn’t mourn you like I loved you, I didn’t act like I loved you—I acted like I’d never been yours. And why did I do it? So people wouldn’t hate me. I did it for the same reason I told you no, I did it because I was a monster, why be a queer as well? People hate me, they hate me for what I am, but even if I hadn’t been a werewolf, they would have spit on me, my parents would have thrown me in a ditch, and I hated myself so much that I let you die without being—I never said—I never said—”

            I can’t catch my breath. My vision is blurry. I think the world is coming apart again.

            “I’ve always been a monster—I’ve always been a freak—”

            Sirius strides towards me. He takes my face in his hands, but I don’t stop him because I can’t even breathe. “Remus, stop. Stop this.”

            I shake my head against his hands. “I failed you—I love you and I let you die—”

            “ _Wolf_ ,” Sirius says.

            My vision clears slightly.

            His face is inches from mine. His grey eyes reflect the moon. I see the concern, the tiredness, the affection there. The look on his face breaks my heart. It grounds me.

            His thumbs stroke over my cheekbones. Bending his head towards mine, Sirius murmurs again, “Wolf.” He holds my eyes, keeping me in place. Keeping me from splintering apart. I tremble. I am safe with him. I am exhausted.

            Sirius leans forward. He brushes his cheek against mine. He is so warm. I’m not sure when I became cold. He gently rubs his skin against mine, then turns his face just enough to set a light kiss to my cheek.

            I close my eyes. I remember how to breathe.

            He draws back to look at me. I open my eyes so I can follow his movements. Sirius slides a hand down my cheek, then bends to the other side of my face. He kisses me again, beside my mouth. I exhale against his skin. My hands lift of their own accord, slipping up his chest. Then he lifts his head, nose trailing against my skin. He inhales through his nose, taking in my scent.

            It is so deeply animal that I moan. My fingertips touch the underside of his chin. I could eat him whole. I could love him until the end of time.

            Sirius tilts his head so we can gaze at one another. Neither of us move for quite some time. Neither of us says anything. I think we both know that enough has been said over the years. I look at him, this strange man, this man who I love to the point of pain.

            I push aside whatever fears remain, and I kiss him.

            He waits for me to do it—I think we both know that I have to be the one to do it—but once I have, Sirius leans into the moment with no reservations. His one hand moves down to hook behind my neck, his other arm wrapping around my back. He does not kiss me the way he did when we were young. He kisses me with the weight of everything that has ever happened to us.

            We are two men unmoored from the stream of time. I hold onto him because I love him, and because he is the only real thing in this world.

            I touch his face. I think of every time I wish I could have done this but held back from shame. He trails his mouth across my cheek, until his lips are at my ear. “Wolf, Wolf,” Sirius whispers.

            My fingers thread through his silken hair, and I raise my eyes to the swollen moon. _You can’t take this from me. I don’t care what I deserve. No one will ever take him from my again_. I bury my face against his neck. There is the point where his throat meets his shoulder. I graze my lips there, then I bite him, just enough to press into the skin.

            Sirius gasps. His body contracts, then he grips me tighter. I can feel desire in the roll of his shoulders, in the shapes his hands make. He lets me kiss along his throat a moment, then takes my face in his hands again, forcing it up to kiss me again. There are the first pangs of desperation.

            I growl. It comes from low in my throat, unbidden. Before I can be abashed, Sirius echoes it, nipping at my mouth. He pushes me back a step, and I drag him with me by the collar. I loop my arms around his neck, the two of us leaning to and fro against one another.

            Sirius breaks from my mouth long enough to murmur urgently, “I want to take you to bed before you change your mind.”

            “Yes,” I answer. Then I realize that might not have been the correct reply. “I mean—what I meant to say—”

            With a roll of the eyes, Sirius grabs me around the waist and apparates us away.

 

He takes the clothes he made for me off my body. We stumble around his dark bedroom, trying to kiss at the same time. Age hasn’t offered us elegance. We seem torn between the hormonal eagerness of teenagers and the cautiousness of middle aged men. Throw in a quarter century of pining, and it’s a wonderful mess.

            I strip his shirt clear over his head instead of mucking about with buttons. I push his hair away from his face before he can give a haughty jerk of the head. My hands move over the minutely raised flesh of his tattoos as he pulls my shirt from my trousers. I trace the harsh lines. It makes him hiss, and he throws the top half of my clothes to the floor. Slipping his hands under my ass, Sirius abruptly lifts me off my feet. Swinging me around, he drops me onto the bed.

            Quivering, I touch my fingers to my chest as he peels away the rest of my things. I can feel my heart pounding. Even in this unreal world, my mind and soul are pretending I have a body. I know it’s all a dream.

            Still, it feels so real when Sirius kicks aside his clothes and climbs atop me. I groan at the warm weight of him. Our bodies, imagined or not, pressed together. I wrap my arms around his neck to kiss him again.

            Sirius’ hands are everywhere. I close my eyes to feel him. I don’t need to open my eyes. It’s all so overwhelming. I could break apart at the middle.

            He reaches down, hiking one of my legs over his hip. Then he lifts his head over mine, so that I can feel his exhalations when he breathes. “I love you in all realities,” Sirius murmurs. “You melancholy prat.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, hand working down between our bodies.

            This.

            This is what it’s like to get what I want.

           

We lie in bed together, beneath the light of the moon. It shines down through the window, a great eye that misses nor forgives a thing. I lie on my side, flicking a toe against Sirius’ calf.

            He has one arm beneath my neck. The other strokes along my side. We collapsed, then instinctively folded together like this. Sirius lays soft kisses to my shoulder. I let him do whatever he pleases, because in some way or another that’s what I’ve always wanted.

            Sirius rests his chin against my shoulder. “What do you remember from the Veil?” he asks quietly.

            “Everything,” I reply. His apprehension is misplaced. I feel him preparing to apologize, but I don’t need to hear it. I reach back, pulling his other arm across me. I tangle our hands together, relaxing in his hold. “I remember it all. From before the Veil and after.”

            I close my eyes and burrow against him. I let myself have this moment.

            The moon be damned.


	27. After

When I died, I came to King’s Cross.

            I knew immediately where I was. Even though my surroundings were pale and shimmering, it _felt_ the way it always had. I loved Hogwarts, but sometimes King’s Cross was even better. Whenever I arrived at King’s Cross, there was a tremendous sense of anticipation. No telling what the next year would hold, what I might learn or discover.

            It was also a place of reunions. I would see my Marauders for the first time in months. My life would turn grey over the summer, but when I saw my friends it would all be in colour once more. Peter would be stumbling along with his cat. James would be waving a new broom above his head. Sirius would stroll through the crowd with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face.

            King’s Cross, too, was the place where I would leave them. I would always be the last one there, desperate to hold onto them a few more seconds.

            It did not feel like an ending, not this time. The space around me practically buzzed with promise. I stood there, letting the sensation fill me up. The start of another year. Knowing that at any moment, a voice would say—

            “Hello, Moony.”

            I spun around, breaking into a grin. James stood on the platform with a smile on his face. Prongs!” I cried, delighted.

            Striding across the platform, I threw my arms around him. He laughed, hugging me around the waist. “Glad to see me then, are you?”

            “Glad, my God—that doesn’t even scratch the surface.” I pushed him back, holding onto his shoulders. “Let me look at you. Look at how bloody young you are.”

            “I was 21,” James reminded me. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

            Letting him go, I put my hands to my face. The familiar divots and hills had gone. For the first time since I was a boy, I had no scars. “This _must_ be heaven.”

            “Not quite,” James said. “Almost.” He clapped a hand to my arm, looking at me. “You had quite the ugly go of it, Remus. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, mate.”

            Blushing, I shrugged. “I wasn’t murdered at 21. It could have been worse.” Incensed, I said, “Did you see what that little shit Dolohov did to me? Thirty years of psychological trauma, and I finally have Greyback in front of me for what was supposed to be the most cathartic of duels, and that little shit shoots me in the back. Typical.”

            With a grin, James said, “Did you see Greyback’s face? He was livid.”

            “Only for a split second. James, tell me he bit off Dolohov’s face.”

            “Alas. Flitwick was responsible for Dolohov.”

            “Filius,” I said. The thought pleased me. “I can live with that, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Greyback? Don’t tell me he’s still walking around.”

            “Absolutely not. Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom saw to that.”

            I had to lower my head a moment. Alice’s son had killed my first monster. _Thank you, Alice_ , I thought. _Thank you_. “Are they all right? They made it through?”

            “They’re brilliant.”

            “Is—is Harry here?”

            James gave a shake of the head. “No. He’s amongst the living. Am I the worst dad to ever live if I say a part of me wishes he had stayed?”

            “Of course not. Someone sired Tom Riddle. You’re the second worst dad at best.” James snorted and I continued, “Probably more like fourth or fifth.”

            He nodded, then turned solemn. “I’m sorry about Teddy.”

            “It’s a kick in the teeth,” I agreed. “But at least I know he’s all right. He’s got a good mum. He’ll be the most loved little boy in all the world.” James pulled his lips into his mouth. It was a thing he did when he didn’t want to tell the truth, but knew he had to. “James. Why do you have that look on your face?”

            He hemmed and hawed a moment before saying, “Ted’s somewhere giving Nymphadora the same welcome I’m giving you.”

            I stared at him. “She went into the battle,” I said in disbelief. James nodded, and I stepped back. “She promised me. She said she’d stay in the Room—so if something happened to one of us, Teddy would still have…” I shut my eyes. “Damn it, Dora.”

            I wasn’t cross with her. Not really. When she refused to stay at the house, I knew she would end up fighting one way or another. It wasn’t in Dora’s nature to let others wage war while she sat on the side lines.

            Teddy had two parents who died fighting for a better world. He had a grandmother who adored him, who would protect him at all costs. He would grow up not preparing for war.

            Eyes popping open, I said, “Fucking hell, Prongs, I didn’t even ask if Voldemort is dead.”

            “Very dead.”

            “Are you certain? Because we did this before.”

            “Every single piece of him on Earth has been destroyed. Whatever was left of him is in a very, very different place than this.”

            “Good. Harry will look after Teddy. I know he will.”

            “He knows something about being an orphan—”

            “Fuck yourself, James,” I groaned.

            “Too soon?”

            “It’s been, what? A few hours?”

            “So a little too soon.” James raised his shoulders. “Are you ready? There’s not exactly an option. You go on to what’s next. You can’t go back.”

            “I would not go back to that place for all the wolfsbane in existence. James—I’ll never have to transform again. It’s done. Ready for whatever’s next? Short of a suicide, I don’t know that anyone has ever been more ready for death.” James cringed, and I scoffed. “I just died. You’re allowed gallows humour, but I’m not?”

            “Granted. Well—this is a bit of a way station. The place between the world and what’s next. Sometimes people have difficulty making their way from one to another. I’m here to take you to journey’s end.”

            I inhaled deeply, even though I knew this body was a projection. “Yes. Let’s go.”

            James looked past me, and I followed his gaze. A train was coming around the corner. Relieved, I thought about my first time on the Hogwarts Express. About how ridiculously disastrous my first encounter with my future friends had been.

            “Is Sirius on the train?” I asked as the engine chugged alongside us.

            “No. But Lily will be so pleased to see you.”

            “Lily’s on the train?” I looked through the windows, trying to spot her. “Sirius is waiting for us, then. I would have thought he’d be here. Always has to make an entrance.”

            As the train pulled to a stop, James leapt onto the steps. “Come along, Moony. Paradise awaits!”

            I reached up, taking hold of the railing.

            But it didn’t make sense.

            I had wondered about what would happen after I died. It was an easy conclusion that I would not be able to imagine the particulars. I could never be so arrogant. In every scenario, though, there was one constant.

            Letting go of the railing, I asked, “James—why isn’t Sirius here?”

            The faintest of whispers tugged at my ear. James turned back with a smile that was a hair too tight. “I wasn’t your first pick?”

            “Of course I wanted you here. I’ve missed you for years.” I felt a breeze at my back. “But Sirius would have been here. Why isn’t he here?”

            James’ eyes flicked past me. He reached a hand down for me. “Remus, come on. I’ll explain on the train.”

            I stepped back from his hand, my skin beginning to crawl. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

            The breath of whispers coalesced into voices. They spoke words just beyond coherence. I began to look back, as James said, “Remus, don’t—”

            I turned around.

            The Veil stood in the middle of King’s Cross. The grey archway and black curtain were the antithesis of its hazy surroundings. The station was a gossamer dream. The Veil was ugly and real, curtain flapping with an unknown wind. From beyond, I heard the voices calling.

            “Why is that there?” I rasped.

            James clamboured down the steps, grabbing my arm. “Don’t look at it. Get on the train. Please, Remus.”

            “Why is it there? Why isn’t Sirius—” He was trying to pull me onto the train, but I threw him off. “James! Answer me!”

            He stood before me, speechless. Staring at him, I put together the pieces.

            Horrified, I said, “Is he still _in_ there?”

            As soon as I said it, I heard him. I couldn’t make out what Sirius said, but I knew his voice better than I knew my own. He was calling to me from inside the Veil.

            “Jesus, James! We have to get him out of there—”

            I charged towards the Veil, but James darted out in front of me. Shoving me back, James shouted, “You can’t! No one comes back—you can’t go after him!”

            “What are you talking about?!”

            “The Veil—it doesn’t go to the same place as that.” He jabbed a finger towards the train.

            Panicked, I snapped, “Then where does it bloody go?”

            Swallowing, James said, “Nowhere.”

            “Tell me what that means.”

            “People who go through the Veil—they die, but they don’t go on. They stay in the Veil. In their own—little worlds.”

            “For how long?”

            “Remus.”

            I walked in a circle, apoplectic. Stopping, I demanded, “Are you telling me—that Sirius is going to be trapped in that thing—forever?” James couldn’t reply, and I shouted, “Twelve years was too long, so forever is out of the _fucking question_ , James Potter!”

            “Remus, there’s no going in there. You’ll be trapped as well—”

            “Did you try to get him out? Did you ever even try?”

            “Of course I did, but—”

            “Did you go in after him?”

            “No—”

            “You bastard. You utter coward.”

            Face hardening, James said, “Going through that Veil meant being done. Never seeing Lily or Harry again. Never seeing my parents again. Never seeing you. It’s awful—I know it’s awful, it’s unfair and if I could fix it, I would have. But once you go through the Veil, you never come back. Not only would you not find him, you’d be on your own, for all eternity. Is that what you want? To be alone?”

            “You can’t be serious. You can’t be suggesting that we abandon him.”

            James dropped his head, gathering himself. “I won’t sugarcoat it, Remus. You might hate me for it, but I’ve got time. There is no way that I know of to get in and out of the Veil. That comes from far above me. It’s the reality of it, and I would love to tell you that paradise is perfect, mate. Perfect’s not real. Sometimes you just have to accept that there are shit outcomes, regardless of what a person does or doesn’t deserve.”

            “I refuse to accept that,” I said, aghast. “He would have come back for me. He would have come back for you.”

            “I know he would. Because he was brilliant, and reckless, and he loved us. And if he knew we were asking ourselves to choose between him and our families, he would tell us to pull our heads from our arses and get on the train.” Sighing, James moved past me. “If you want to argue about this, we can do it on the way.”

            Appalled, I watched James step back up onto the train. “You said there was no going back.”

            “Moony.”

            “This is my only chance at this, isn’t it. If I get on that train, the choice is made. I leave with you now, and I’ll never see the Veil again. That’s why you’re so anxious to get me on the train.”

            “What I want is for you to have what you deserve. I don’t want you to be alone. You can’t go through the Veil. If you do, it doesn’t mean finding Sirius. It means a prison that doesn’t end.”

            “If Lily was in there, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

            “It’s different.”

            “No,” I said. “It’s not.”

            James paused. After a moment, he tried again. “One day, your son will come to this place. He’ll have waited his entire life to know you. What will they tell him when he gets here, if you do this futile thing?”

            Unmoved, I replied, “They’ll tell him his father learned from his mistakes, and that he refused to leave a friend behind again.”

            “You be leaving us all behind. You won’t find him.”

            I thought about it. James might have been exposed to some of the secrets of the universe, but he had only lived for two decades. He had no idea what it was to live a life stained by regrets.

            For a second, I did waver. It was Teddy that almost did it. In my mind’s eye, I saw an old wizard with a magenta beard. I saw him look for me, and find no one to greet him. I was going to miss my son’s entire life. Was I prepared to miss his afterlife as well?

            But I thought of Sirius. I thought of the boy, the man, the wreck Azkaban left behind. I thought of how he had wept in the cottage by the beach. I pictured a beautiful young man, leaning against his motorbike, smiling that smile meant for me and me alone.

            I looked up. There was a familiar face in the nearest window. Lily Evans, the first girl I ever loved, propping her head up on her hand. Her kind eyes watched me, and I could tell from her face that she already knew what I meant to do.

            Lily smiled at me, and mouthed a single word.

            _Go_.

            I turned and ran. James screamed my name, but I don’t know if he tried to catch me. It wouldn’t have mattered. I was always the fastest of us, and I no longer had years holding me back.

            I leapt through the Veil, bearing my love for Sirius Black like a beacon.


	28. Waking

I wake up, for a moment not knowing where I am. Not caring much either. I had the most peaceful sleep. No tossing or turning, no nightmares. I slept the night clear through. Day is firmly set in, even though it is a cool, grey one.

            Sirius.

            Rolling over, I find myself in an empty bed. Before I can worry, I find a note spelled to the headboard. Peeling it off, I drop onto my back, holding the note up.

            ‘Plans to make you breakfast ended in disaster. Gone to find civilization to procure eggs. You look very handsome when you snore. Will return if not arrested for eccentricity by Muggles.”

            Smiling, I set the note on his pillow, then rub my hands over my face. I feel…fucking fantastic. The last time I thought that, I might have barely been out of short pants. All my hysteria from last night has been blanketed by enormous contentment. I’m not saying that all it takes to overcome existential terror is a good shagging, but…

            Well, perhaps I am.

            Not that it was only sex. There’s been this connection between us so long, but I stalled on following it to its natural conclusion until we were actually dead. And it was me who held us back. Deep down, I knew the issue was not with him, but me.

            I’m gay. It might not be the revelation to end all revelations, but it is a thing that’s haunted me for decades. I was raised to be afraid of myself. To expect rejection at the slightest misstep. My parents did the best they could, but best doesn’t necessarily mean good. They bred fear into me, and revulsion, intentional or not.

            After I mauled my mother, she was gone for some time. And one night I woke up, and my father was standing over me. I could see that he had something behind his back, but I said nothing. We stared at one another until his face crumped. He dropped to his knees and sobbed against my stomach until he was hoarse. Then he got back up and left my room and we never discussed it again.

            That’s what I was living with when I came to Hogwarts. That was the burden I bore as I discovered other unpleasant truths. Bad enough to be a creature. The human part of me was wrong as well.

            I always told Sirius that I had carried my prison with me since I was five. But my real prison has been one of shame. Werewolf or not, I would have borne it my entire life.

            It would have been different had it not been for Sirius. If I had never known him, maybe I could have lived a life of quiet self loathing. He wasn’t satisfied to let me do that. We’ve done terrible things to each other, that’s simply facts, and yet I truly believe our lives would have been so much lesser without one another.     

            Sirius Black. The man I loved so much that I turned down eternity.

            Time to get up. I don’t want to loll about in bed until he gets back. Though I can only imagine the look on his face if I did. I half think he would drop whatever he had to climb in with me. Actually, I’m quite convinced he would. I think I prefer what will happen if I get up. If I’m dressed and waiting for him, I’m sure it will be slightly awkward. But the moment will be about this connection, not jumping straight to the physical.

            Though, my God, I am ready, willing, and able when it comes to the physical.

            I get to my feet, stretching. I catch my reflection in the mirror. There’s a sobering image. If we are still in the Veil, it’s doing me no favours. My body is decidedly middle aged. Too thin in some places, not thin enough in others. Hair in places a sane person would never anticipate. Grey and scarred and…old.

            I remember that, regardless, Sirius’ hands and mouth covered every inch of this body last night, and I blush.

            Going to the wardrobe, I borrow some of his underclothes. I don’t fancy apparating back to mine just to get dressed.

            Speaking of apparating, I think someone just arrived outside. Bugger. I don’t want to be standing here in my pants when Sirius walks through the door.

            Pulling my trousers on in record time, I’m slipping into my shirt when a voice calls, “Hello?”

            That—is most definitely not Sirius. After a pause, I quickly do up my buttons. Perhaps I should apparate back to mine.

            The man calls out again. His voice is definitely familiar, though I can’t place it. If I go into the other room, I should be able to peek out the window and see who the visitor is.

            I walk out from the bedroom, tucking my shirt in, when Neville Longbottom’s face pops in the window, hands to the sides so he can peer in. I freeze. This looks like—how do I explain—it’s pretty bloody obvious what this looks like—

            Neville puts a hand up with a smile. For lack of a better option, I raise a hand as well. He disappears from the window, headed towards the door.

            Fuck.

            I finish tucking in my shirt and go to greet him. Opening the door, I say, “Good morning, Neville.”

            He’s standing back from the door in civilian’s robes. His large, scarred hands rub over one another. “Morning, Professor.”

            “Neville, I was a professor for one year, approximately fifteen years ago.”

            He shrugs, unfazed. “You and Professor Sprout were the best teachers I ever had. Least I can do is respect that. I hope you don’t mind, but—” Neville shucks his head back over his shoulder. “I tried your place first. I figured you’d be here if you weren’t there.”

            “Yes,” I say weakly, willing myself not to turn bright red.

            “Is Sirius in?”

            “He’s gone to get eggs.” Yes, Remus, perfect! That doesn’t at all say, _I am waiting for my lover to return in post coital repose_. “Did you need to see him?”

            “No, actually—” He’s patting his hands together. I stop being anxious long enough to realize he’s quite nervous. What could make an Unspeakable nervous? Neville straightens his shoulders and asks, “Would you take a trip down to London with me?”

            I gaze at him a moment, understanding what he means.

            “I would like that very much,” I say.

           

I walk into St. Mungo’s wearing the face and body of a Muggle accountant. I’m not sure where his hair came from, and Neville offered no further information when he gave me the Polyjuice.

            I’m unused to the commotion as we enter the hospital. The A&E is right next to the lobby. When we pass through the doors, tentacles suddenly slam through the wall. I grab for my wand, but I hear an elderly man on the other side yelp, “Dreadfully sorry! Not used to the new appendages!”

            Neville walks on, unbothered, so I follow. “There’s a cold been going around,” he says offhandedly.

            When we reach the elevator, I expect him to press the button to take us to the fourth floor. Only he holds off, brushing his blond hair back from his forehead. I wait, patient.

            “They don’t talk,” Neville says. “Mum’s a little more responsive than Dad, but that’s not saying much. Dad mostly sleeps now. I don’t come around as often as I should. I’m not proud of it, but it’s hard to see them like this. Never changing. I just don’t want you to be disappointed—”

            I put up a hand, stopping him. “Neville. I visited your parents here every month until Death Eaters staked the place out during the war.”

            “You did.”

            “Of course. They were family.”

            Neville says nothing a moment. Reaching into his pockets, he says, “If you give these to Mum—”

            I’ve beaten him to it. I show him the toffees I shoved in my pocket before departing Lewis. Neville stares at them a moment before a small smile curves his mouth. He puts his candies away.

            “If anyone could come back,” Neville says, “you deserved it.”

            He hits the fourth floor button with his fist, forestalling my stunned reply and effectively ending the conversation.

 

When we enter the Janus Thickey Ward, Neville aims a friendly wave at the witch behind the desk. She perks up at the sight of him, closing her book.

            “Would you mind if I have a few minutes alone with them?” I ask.

            Neville looks surprised and a touch relieved. I can’t say that I blame him. “Go ahead.”

            I leave him behind with the pretty witch. The ward is not full, thank heavens. I avoid looking at anyone, because their suffering is not a thing that should be intruded upon. Frank and Alice are still at the back, in a curtained off area. I slip around it without hesitation.

            As Neville predicted, Frank lies sleeping on his bed. He is considerably more gaunt than last I saw him. His grey hair has largely given way to a bare head. He snores softly. I lean over him, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Hello, old man.”

            Alice stands at the frosted window. Her white hair has been cut short. It makes her look even more fragile than before. When we were young, Alice was sturdy enough to take a punch before blowing the feet off her attacker. Now she is not only withering away; she has almost gone.

            I go to her side. There is no way to see through the window, but she stares at it anyway. Her skin has taken on a grey cast, the last of its roundness gone. I put an arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “Hello, love. I know it may not look like it, but it’s Remus.”

            Taking her by the hand, I lead her back to the bed and sit her down upon it. I take a seat beside her, wrapping my fingers around hers. She doesn’t seem to notice any of this. I knew she wouldn’t, and it dulls none of my happiness at seeing her. Her small hands are so cold. I always have warmth to spare, so I rub her hand between mine.  

            “I apologize for the length between my visits,” I tell her. “Quite a lot happened. I was dead for ten years, so that ate up a lot of my time. There was a war as well, but that was some time back.”

            I take a candy out, unwrapping it with one hand. I offer it to her, and she takes it with her free hand, popping it in her mouth.

            “The last time I saw you, I think, was before Dumbledore died. Yes. Yes, I remember now. I saw you a few days after my birthday. The next time I came back to the hospital, Death Eaters were everywhere. They hadn’t taken over yet. I didn’t want to be another person conveniently disappeared. So I stayed away. I knew you wouldn’t mind. You would tell me to be sensible.

            “I did die. In the last of the battles. And now I’m back. I don’t know how I managed it. If it’s permanent. Or if this is even real. I honestly don’t know, Alice. I don’t know how any of this works. So I’m fumbling through.

            “Sirius is back as well. I don’t know if that would surprise you. I don’t know that anyone other than you knew what happened between he and I the day before things fell apart. I don’t imagine you told Frank. I never told a soul. A secret between he and me and thee. You’ve kept a great many people’s secrets, Alice. One more couldn’t hurt.

            “I slept with him. Last night. For the first time. Can you believe that? I’ve been in love with him since my voice broke, and I put it off until now. I’ve always been a slow study, regardless of what people thought. I feel a bit…fluttery. Young, maybe. Excited. It’s all bizarrely foreign. I haven’t felt like this since 1981. There’s not really anyone I can confide in about any of this. I was always an anomaly, but now I appear to be a thumb in God’s eye. So I’ll tell you. My lovely Alice.

            “I hope someone has told you this lately: Neville is spectacular. You should be so proud. God knows it wasn’t Augusta’s doing, the old bully. Your and Frank’s genes won the day. He grew up to be the spitting image of you both. If we’re not careful, he might run the Ministry someday. First I met him at Hogwarts, he was such a shy, uncertain thing. Snape berating him. Hating him because you had the temerity to live. They tell me he was on our side all along, but I wasn’t alive to see it. I tried to be fair to him, Alice, but I hated him for the way he treated your son. Neville was such a good boy. A smart boy. Everyone told him he wasn’t, but he showed them all. He even killed Greyback. He helped defeat Voldemort. He did everything you would have, Alice.

            “I’ve been thinking about you and Neville because I have a son of my own. I wasn’t able to tell you that before I died. His name is Edward, but we call him Teddy. I’ve thought about Neville—and Harry—because Teddy lost his mother and I when he was only a few weeks old. I was married, Alice, which is another conversation in and of itself because it was such a bloody mess. Teddy’s grandmother has raised him. He’s in a better position than Neville. Andromeda adores him. Guards him like a pitbull. She won’t let me near him.

            “Maybe that’s for the best. To be honest, Alice, I’ve no idea if any of this is real. It feels as if I’m sitting here, breathing, holding your hand. It might be a lie. I may still be beyond the Veil. I most likely am. I don’t know that I deserve Teddy in any reality. Perhaps it would be better if I let him be. I knew nothing about being a father in the first place. What use am I to a ten-year-old who’s terrified of werewolves because they killed his grandfather? What lessons could I possibly teach him? I don’t know. What do you think, Alice?”

            Alice says, “Puppy dog.”

            I turn to stare at her. Alice does not react at all. She merely gazes forward, lost. Without any fuss, she lays her head on my shoulder.

            When I find my voice, I say quietly, “Too right, Alice.”

 

When I apparate onto the lawn of the Tonks’ house, I am filled with a sense of purpose that’s unfamiliar. I take a breath that feels like it may break my ribcage, facing the house like a foe.

            In one of the upper windows, I see a little face poke out from behind the curtains.

            I stride towards the door. I need to stop being such an utter ninny. Alice Longbottom was tortured until she lost her mind. She’s spent nearly three decades in a madhouse, the world saying it would be better had she died. And still, she loves her son. In this moment, it doesn’t matter if the world is real or not. If Alice can hold onto a memory for twenty-six years, the very least I can do is talk to my son.

            I pound on the door. Damn it. I didn’t mean to be so loud. It sounds as if I’m angry.

            Maybe I am, a little. Angry at myself, of course. Angry at Andromeda as well. She’s made me feel like I don’t deserve to see my son. And I do. I do.

            Through the curtains, I see Andromeda pause before coming to the door. Without opening it, she says, “Remus, I told you—”

            “May I speak to you a moment?”

            She’s shaking her head. “Fine.” Andromeda opens the door. “What do you think you’re—”

            I take her by the shoulders and firmly, but respectfully as I’m able, move her aside. “I’m here to see my son,” I say, moving past her.

            Andromeda dashes after me. “Don’t you dare—you can’t just come into this house! He isn’t yours!”

            I stop on the bottom step of the staircase, turning back to her. “He _is_. You may not like me, Andromeda, and I don’t bloody blame you. I was a terrible husband to your daughter, and if we’d lived we probably would have divorced within the year. But I love—my son. It’s not your place to dictate that. Now you stay where you are and let me speak to him or so help me, I will take you to court and I defy anyone to tell a dead war hero he’s no rights to his own flesh and blood.”

            I leave her there, bounding up the stairs two at a time.

            It’s easy to tell which room is Teddy’s. The door has his name on it. It’s closed.

            I straighten my jacket and raise my hand. This time, I’m more gentle, knocking on the door.

            “Teddy,” I say, “it’s your dad.”

            There’s no response from the other side. I didn’t really expect one. Silence is what I believe I deserve, deep in my heart, and so that’s what I’ll get. Still, I have to speak.

            Dropping my voice, I rest a hand against the wall and lean towards the door. “Teddy—I understand that you’re nervous, and scared. So am I. Things didn’t happen the way they were supposed to between you and I. We were supposed to—grow up together, I imagine. I was supposed to learn how to be a father while you learned how to have a father. We missed out on that. That means I’m trying my best, but I may not always get things right. I’m doing this for the first time, just as you are.”

            I close my eyes, resting my head against the doorjamb. “I know you’re scared of me. Werewolves can be scary. If I could not be a werewolf, love, I wouldn’t be. I wish more than just about anything that I couldn’t be. Only I am, and if you’re frightened of me because of that, I won’t say I don’t understand. The thing is, Teddy, is I don’t want you to live your life afraid. I don’t want you to live your life scared of other people because they’re different. It’s no way to be. If your mum was here, she would have taught you to be open to everyone, regardless of where they came from or what happened to them. She would have done a better job of this, Teddy; only she’s not here. I am.

            “I understand that you need time. I won’t come back for awhile if that’s what you want. But I don’t want you to think for a second that I don’t love you. I love you so much that I was willing to die so that you’d have the chance to live in a way I never could. If I had my way, Teddy, I would know everything about you. I’d be your dad the way I was supposed to, and we would be a family. This isn’t about what I want, though. I love you so much that if you’re not comfortable having me around, I’ll keep my distance. I want you to feel safe, and respected. I want you to be happy. I want that so much.”

            Opening my eyes, I step back from the door. “I’m going to go now. If you want to owl me, or call me, or come see me, or want me to come see you, your grandmother knows where I am. I love you so much, Teddy. Take care of yourself. Take care of your grandmother. Oh, and—I want you to have this. Be careful, but…live.” Crouching, I pull the map from my inner pocket. It’s a damned ridiculous thing to give to a child, but Christ, I want him to have adventures. I slip it under the door before I can change my mind.

            All right.

            I stand and walk back down the hall. Andromeda is standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms firmly crossed. I walk past her without saying another word. Any relationship that she and I could ever have would be the work of decades.

            I leave the house feeling good about what I’ve done. I came, I said what I needed to say. If this is the Veil, I know what will happen. It doesn’t matter. I had to say those things for my peace of mind.

            Time to go. I’ll head back to Lewis. When I see Sirius, I won’t say anything. I’ll just wrap my arms around him and hold on until I feel whole.

            I’ve nearly reached a respectable distance to apparate from when I hear feet pounding on the ground.

            I turn, and Teddy is running across the lawn to me. He’s so quick that I barely have a chance to register his approach before he slams into me. He throws his arms around my middle, squeezing me desperately.

            “Don’t go,” he sobs against my ribs.

            Startled, it takes me a second to react. Instinct kicks in, and I lift him up. He clings to my neck, weeping against my shoulder. “Shh,” I say, rubbing his back.

            He’s babbling through his tears. “Don’t go—don’t leave me—I’m sorry. Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

            I sway my son side to side, holding him tight as he cries. “Shh,” I murmur. “That’s my boy. Shh.”

            I am a father, holding his son.

 

When I reach the cottage in Lewis, the sun has just dropped below the horizon. It’s chill, stars starting to blot the sky to the east. It looks like it will be a cloudless night.

            I stand a moment, surveying my surroundings.

            I’m resolved.

            I go inside, and I open the cupboards in the bathroom.

           

Sirius comes knocking after awhile. I’ve settled in on the sofa with a cigarette. There’s a bottle of wine opened. I’m drinking from a ceramic mug.

            He doesn’t wait for me to call out. He just opens the door and walks in. He’s all smiles and bright eyed at first. When he sees me, however, he goes cautious, still holding onto the door.

            “Moony,” he says.

            I nod, taking another drag from my cigarette.

            Sirius shuts the door, then glances around. “I’ve been popping over here on the hour. You said you’d be gone a few. I didn’t know you meant the whole day.”

            “I ended up taking the two trips instead of the one.”

            Sirius pulls his lips into his mouth. Then he walks over and takes the seat opposite me.   

            “Never seen you smoke inside before,” he observes. “Was Alice that bad?”

            I shake my head. “No. Alice was a dream. Short of being able to function as a human being.” I lift my cup, having a sip.

            Sirius follows the movement of cup to mouth. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks. “Won’t it interfere with your potions?”

            “It’s fine.”

            “Are you upset about tonight? You said yourself, you don’t even remember last month.”

            “I’m not upset, Sirius. I’m only tired.”

            “Whatever you are, it’s worrying me.”

            Tapping ash into a mug, I say, “I’ve tried very hard today to be honest with myself. Last night—besides the start, which was terrible—was something I have wanted a very long time, without being able to say it. So today I decided to do another thing I wanted.”

            “What was that?”

            “I went to see Teddy.”

            “And it went poorly again. Remus—it’ll take time, mate—”

            “It went swimmingly.”

            “What?”

            “It went as well as I could have expected. I showed up, gave Andromeda a brief but mature piece of my mind, told Teddy what I needed to say, and then he and I talked for a few hours.” Considering the contents of my mug, I say, “He called me Dad and everything.”

            Sirius raises his brows. “So why do you look like you’re about to cut your wrists?”

            “Because it’s not real.”

            Drooping, Sirius rubs his hands over his face. With a groan, he sits back and crosses his legs at the ankles. “This again.”

            “Not again. Still.”

            “Remus—I’ll admit. It’s a possibility. Of course it is. You’re a clever man. But you’re also the most cynical man I’ve ever met when it comes to your own happiness. If you didn’t always jump to the worst happening to you, I’d be gobsmacked. I’ll tell you, as someone who knew I was in the Veil every single second I was there, I can say unequivocably that this doesn’t feel the same.”

            “Because I made this.”

            “Bloody hell, Remus. You really think, just because you and Teddy had a good day, because you got to feel like a dad for a few hours, that this isn’t real? You’re happy for the blink of an eye, so this can’t be true.”

            “More or less.”

            “That’s idiotic.”

            “It’s what experience tells me.”

            “Experience also told you that you and I would never have a real chance at anything other than pining until we ceased to exist. Was last night fake as well?”

            “Maybe.”

            “I could slap you,” Sirius sighs.

            “Maybe none of this is real. Not even you. Maybe I’ve been on my own since I stepped through the Veil. Just like James told me I would be.”

            “What? What did James tell you about the Veil?”

            “Enough.”

            Sirius says to me, “Remus. You don’t believe I’m a dream anymore than I think you wake up every morning with a song in your heart. But, you moody bastard, I’ve got the time to convince you. Merlin’s beard, I knew coming over here that you’d more likely than not have some excuse to put this—” He gestures between us both. “On hold.”

            “I don’t want that.”

            “Then what do you want, Remus?”

            “I want to know the truth. I can’t trust any of this until I know the truth.”

            “Well, then you’re probably never going to know.”

            “Pardon?”

            Shrugging, Sirius says, “You’ll never be able to prove what’s real and what’s false. The world is magic, Remus. We already live in a reality that the majority of the world doesn’t think is real. People believe things that aren’t true probably more often than they don’t. They know the world is insane. And they just carry on. They have to. It’s the only way to exist. If you spend every single second agonizing over what’s true and what’s not true, you’re never going to live. I think we’re alive again, Remus, even if we’re not exactly like other people. We have a chance here to really live. I don’t give a shit if it’s real or not. I’m going to live like it is.” Sirius pushes himself to his feet. “You should do the same.”

            He walks over to the window by the kitchen, drawing the curtain aside a few inches. I shift, feeling the old discomfort. I’m nearly down to the end of my cigarette.

            “I came by to see if I could stay the night here with you,” Sirius says. “While you sleep. It’s daft, and overly sentimental, but our timing, as usual, is impeccable. Do you mind?”

            “Of course you can stay. But it won’t matter.”

            “What won’t?”

            “The timing.”

            Sirius turns back to me, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

            The cigarette burns down to its filter. I exhale, stubbing the butt out on the inside of the mug. “I’m not going to change.”

            Sirius gazes at me. Then he says in exasperation, “Remus.”

            “This world isn’t real. We’re still in the Veil. I’ve made my surroundings what I thought I deserved. As much as I hate myself, however, there is one thing I have never, ever thought that I deserved. And that’s this.” I point towards the window, towards the east. “You say I can’t prove to myself if we’re in the Veil? I rather think that I can. If this is the Veil, I won’t change. I never changed before. I won’t now.”

            Placing his hands on the back of his hips, Sirius shakes his head at the ground. “Fine,” he says. “You pass out, and I’ll let you know in the morning whether you turned or not. Now go get your kit off. No use destroying those clothes until I make you better ones.”

            “I’ve decided to have the courage of my convictions on this one.” I put the cork back in the bottle.

            Sirius cries out, “You _moron_.”

            He strides away towards the bathroom, and I sigh. I make myself comfortable. The moon will rise soon. I’ll remain myself, and then—then we can figure out a way forward. I just need to know.

            Sirius storms back. “Where are they?” he demands. “Where are your potions?”

            “I vanished them,” I reply.

            Sirius’ knees wobble a moment, he’s so irate. “You—absolute blithering idiot. That’s part of our conditions! We stay here and you take your medicine so you don’t run off and eat the locals!”

            “There’s no one in a ten kilometre radius—”

            “I’ve seen the wolf travel thirty in a night, and me along with it trying to keep you in check! For heaven’s sake—if you want to prove a point, that’s one thing. But this is reckless and that’s not you, that’s me. I’m the one who’s supposed to do things without thinking about the consequences first, not you.”

            “I have thought about the consequences.”

            “Have you?” Sirius snaps. “I don’t think that you have.”

            He turns away from me, thrusting his hands into his hair. I knew he would be upset. He’s never liked it when I prove him wrong. He gets in such a snit.

            I want him. I want to be with him. In whatever little corner of the afterlife this might be. Only I want us to move forward in a truthful place. I’m sick of lies and half truths. I’m sick of shame. I’m sick of hiding. I want a future. At the very least, I want him, and I want us both to be better than before.

            Getting to my feet, I say, “Sirius, I understand you’re annoyed, but I promise you—no one will be hurt—”

            The moon crests the hill, and my bones snap.

            I’m so shocked that I don’t even cry out from the pain. Sirius spins around, eyes widening. We stare at one another for a long, pregnant moment.

            Then my knees break backwards, and I fall to the floor with a scream.

            No! No, this isn’t happening. I’m face to face with the floor, trying to hang on. “It’s not real,” I insist, feeling the change rippling through me, threatening to come in bursts. “It’s not real. It can’t be.”

            My hands reconfigure themselves, and I wail. My organs are reordering themselves, my spine is popping, my teeth—oh God, my teeth—

            “Remus, you’re fine, love—you’re fine, you’ve done this before—”

            “It’s not REAL!” I scream. “This isn’t real!”

            I fight this illusion with all my will. It’s a dream. It’s only a dream, it’s just a dream, I’m imagining this, if I want it badly enough, it will stop. I can make this stop!

            Fangs burst through my lower lip, spattering the floor with blood. Sirius weaves before me, but I’m unable to focus on him. “Remus, let go. Stop fighting, you know it’s easier when you don’t fight—”

            “I don’t want this! I don’t deserve this—I _never_ deserved this—”

            My wrists break and heal in the span of seconds, and I feel it coming. I feel the monster scrabbling up inside me. I don’t think I can stop it.

            “I love you,” Sirius says. “You daft bastard. I’ll look after you. I’ll keep you safe—”

            It comes through me, reaching out with a strength I do not possess. I strike him across the face with all my power. I see blood and he flies through the air. Sirius strikes the wall and falls to the floor in a heap.

            He’s not moving. I try to call to him, but my words are garbled by fangs.

            I can’t be here. If I finish changing and I’m in here with him—

            I shove myself towards the door. My feet become paws, scratching at the floor. With a heady rush, I can suddenly smell him. I smell him, and his blood—I smell meat—

            Out, I have to get out—

            My hands, my hands are barely hands. I’m losing my thumbs. I have to close the door, I have to—

            Everything is so bright. Everything is bright and clear and I’m hungry, I’m starving—

            Keep him safe. I have to keep him safe.

            I fall to the ground outside, feeling a million hairs burst through my skin. As the monster pushes through me, I reach up with a paw. I shove it through the handle, yanking at the door as the bones in my face burst, and I am disappearing

            I am barely

            The thing between me and the meat makes a sound and is solid and I know I cannot get past it and the last thing I feel is relief and then

 

            _and then i am free._


	29. wolf

_the first time i was, i was small. i remember my birth. i came into the world under the earth. i arrived trapped. my legs were held by metal. they were stretched apart. i howled and the humans made noises. they made noises not meant for me but the other. the smaller human wailed. i wanted to bite through its head to silence it. i existed but i was not free._

_-_

_this place smells barren. i smell for prey and there is none. a bird travels overhead. birds are pointless. even if they land they leave too quickly for eating. the only bird i have ever eaten was dead for days. i ate it only so the sickness would be visited on the other. my mother hangs overhead. she shows me her full face. only when she is at her most powerful can she pull me into the world. i call to her. thank you mother. thank you._

_-_

_the second time i was, i was still trapped but the place was different. i could tell from the scent. the humans still made their noises and the smaller one howled. every time i was it was a different location. i was trapped by metal. i starved. i did not allow the humans peace. they hurt me. i swallowed the other and i screamed at the humans._

_-_

_i stretch my legs. i feel my form. it is a long time since i have been. i have not seen mother. the world smells different. i do not know how. it feels good to be. the other is to be blame. the other made me not be. always the other. i have to sit in the other’s stomach. i have to wait. i do not have to wait now. i am. i am hungry. i hate the other._

_-_

_i broke my restraints and tried to eat the humans. the larger one pointed a stick at me that burst blue flame. it stung. it did not wound me. i accepted that they were unimportant. i wanted to be free. i went through something sharp. i went into the world for the first time. i was free. i ate. i ran. i lived. the larger human followed me with his stick. he could not stop me. i ate until my belly was full. i was free._

_-_

_the wind moves over my fur. mother touches my face. i walk the barren. i exist. the other is not even a whisper. when mother goes to sleep the other will start to speak. mother is gazing on me. mother protects me. i walk with mother._

_-_

_i was clever. when i existed i did not make a sound. i did not scream for mother to save me. i waited. the smaller human stayed with me. i did not struggle. when i existed again i did not make a sound. i did not struggle. the smaller human sat closer each time. the smaller human made noises for the other. i waited. i waited. when i existed the smaller human sat before me. the smaller human touched my fur. i was strong. i ripped the metal away. i put my claws through the human’s face. i ate what came off. the larger human used his stick to hurt me. the larger human could not take away my victory._

_-_

_i find a high point. i lie in the grass. i lick the blood on my paws. it is the other’s and another’s. it tastes familiar. i lay my head on my paws and watch mother. mother hangs over me. mother makes me exist. mother keeps the other away. the other would kill me if it could. i would kill the other if i could. we cannot kill each other. i will be happy when i exist. i will look at mother._

_-_

_the humans did not come under the earth with me. i existed under the earth. i could not see mother. i existed above earth. i was not outside but i could see mother. i threw myself against my confines to reach mother. i could not be free. i screamed for mother. i screamed._

_-_

_i lift my head. i smell prey. there is prey in the direction mother travels. mother is leading me to meat. i stand. thank you mother._

_-_

_the animals came. the dog, the stag, the rat. the dog was first. i tried to kill the dog. the dog fought me. the dog was strong. the dog came again. we fought. we fought again. the dog did not mean to hurt me. the dog became my kin. the others came. the stag and the rat. i tried to eat the rat. the stag kicked me in the face. i did not try to eat the rat again. the dog, the stag, and the rat showed me how to be outside._

_-_

_i run across the rocks. the wind brings the scent of prey to me. meat. i am so hungry. first i will chase. the chase makes me happy. i will feast. the feast makes the other unhappy. i run. i run. i run._

_-_

_i ran with my pack. we ran through forests. we ran into the water. we ran over the hills. my pack was strong. the dog would bite my neck. we played. my pack made me whole. my pack made me free. we ran beneath the eyes of mother and were free._

_-_

_it is human. i smell human. i smell more than one. i will eat them all. i will eat them all because i hate the other. i will eat them all because i am hungry._

_-_

_my pack was not always with me. my home was no longer my home. the stag disappeared. the rat only existed with me once without the dog. i carried the rat on my back. i did not try to eat the rat. the dog was with me. the dog was not always with me. when the dog was not with me i would wake up behind metal. when the dog was with me we ran across new places. i slept beside the dog. i slept beside the dog even though i had little time. i gave the dog my trust. i missed my pack. the dog was my pack._

_-_

_i run along mother’s path. i will eat the humans. they are a pack. i smell two large humans and two small humans. i will kill the larger humans first. i will hunt the smaller humans. i will gorge. the other kept me away too long. punish. yes. i will punish the other._

_-_

_i existed without mother. i woke when the other called me. it hurt. the other screamed and i screamed. it was too bright. the other had a pain i could not understand. mother was not above me. there was nothing above me but light. the other called me forward. the other had never called me forward before. the other and i shared the same form. i was not and i was and he was not and he was. we were one. we were not meant. the other hurt us both. the dog never came back._

_-_

_i will go through the trees. there is a path where the metal things run. i smell the path. it is not earth. across the path are the trees and in the trees are humans. my head is down. my tail is high. these are not humans like the ones who trapped me. these are other humans. they will not have sticks. i will eat the older humans. i will hunt the younger humans. i will eat the younger humans first._

_-_

_the other confined me. i existed under the earth. i existed behind metal. i existed on ice where no prey could be found. the other starved me. the other hurt me. the other kept me alone. i needed my pack. the other took my pack away. the other hurt me. the other hurt my pack. i hate the other. i want to kill the other._

_-_

_thank you mother for this gift. thank you mother. i make no sound as i reach the path. i see light through the trees. the humans invite me. the humans know they are only prey. i will feast._

_i hear another._

_-_

_the other made me go away. i have not been in so long. i have missed my mother. i miss my mother. i want to exist. i want to eat. i want to be free. i want to exist above ground. i hate humans. humans have confined me. i will put my claws in their flesh. i will devour their meat. i will eat them. i will hurt them. humans will not allow me to exist. i will not allow them to exist. i will be free._

_-_

_the dog is approaching me. the dog is running. my dog. the dog is growling._

_the dog has come to stop me._

_i will not be stopped. i bare my teeth at the dog. this is my prize. these are my humans. i must eat. i must exist. the dog cannot stop me._

_the dog stops. the dog barks. i growl at the dog. i hear the humans making noise. the dog is barking and they hear the dog. the humans smell like fear. the dog is trying to make them leave._

_it does not matter if i eat them. it only matters if i kill them. i will make the other hurt._

_i turn and run across the path. i am faster than the dog. i have always been faster than the dog._

_i see the humans. i see two older humans. one is holding a small human. there is another small human screaming. the small human will be first. i am so hungry. i have always wanted to eat a human._

_the dog jumps against me. i turn to bite it. the dog is large. i am larger. i get my teeth into the dog’s neck and it screams. the dog fights. i cannot bite it. the dog bites me._

_the humans are running. there is a metal creature. they are running to the metal creature. they will get inside the metal creature’s stomach and leave. i will not let them._

_the dog hurts me._

_choice._

_show the dog my back and kill a human. the dog might kill me._

_kill the dog and let the humans live._

_i want to be free. the dog is not letting me be free._

_i turn my back to the humans._

_i will kill the dog._

_i will be free._


	30. Chances

I wake with a start. It’s cold.

            Raising my head, I find myself lying naked on some rocks, covered in blood.

            Oh God. God, what have I done?

            I try to lift myself up and—fucking hell. I’m missing the ends off three of my fingers on the left hand. I hold my hand in front of my face, shivering. It could be worse. It could certainly be worse.

            It’s foggy. I have no idea where I am. How far I am from the cottage. It’s me alone in a field of white and rocks. I’m sore all over. Underneath all the blood are undoubtedly bruises. I put my right hand to my ribs as I struggle to my feet.

            I didn’t take my potions and this happened. I should have taken them. I’m an idiot.

            Cracking my jaw, trying to become accustomed to the reshaping of my bones, I turn in a circle, looking for any sign of where I am. Everything hurts badly enough that I don’t know if I’m in any shape to apparate. I might have to walk.

            There is a shape lying on the ground.

            My heart leaps into my throat. I lurch forward and almost fall. My ankle—Christ, my ankle might be broken. I don’t give a shit. I have to get to him.

            I limp as quickly as I can across the rocks, calling to Sirius. He doesn’t move. He lies face down, arm outstretched. His hand is curled around his wand. There are smears of blood all around him, but he’s wearing black and I can’t tell if he’s bleeding.

            I hurt him. What if I killed him?

            Hitting my knees beside him, likely taking a chip out of the bone, I shake him with my good hand. “Sirius? Sirius, are you—”

            He slaps me across the middle, right on a massive bruise.

            “I’m sleeping, you prick,” Sirius mumbles.

            He lifts his head, and I pull away. His left eye has swollen shut. His handsome face is covered in contusions, and his lower lip is puffy from being split open. Sirius puts an elbow to the ground, pushing himself up a few inches. His hand hangs at a strange angle. I’ve broken his wrist.

            I try to help him, but he says, “Do _not_ touch me.” All I can do is sit here helplessly as Sirius struggles upwards. His clothes are in shreds. I’ve sliced through some of his tattoos. His clothes are marred by clotted blood and clumps of grass. Even his hair is messy, which is beyond the pale.

            Sirius manages to stand, and without a look at me, he starts walking away, shoving his wand into his jacket pocket.

            I get up—that ankle, damn it—and lope after him. “Sirius—Sirius, I’m so sorry.” I lay a hand on his shoulder to slow him down.

            The next thing I know, I’m lying on my back, white spots floating over my left eye. Sirius stands over me, pointing a finger at my face in fury.

            “Don’t you _ever_ put me in that position again!” Sirius roars. “If you ever do that me to again, I’ll more than clock you, Remus Lupin, I will bloody murder you and not have a second thought about it!”

            He turns his back and continues hobbling away.

            I lie on my back. He hit me. He’s never hit me before.

            Christ, did I ever have it coming.

            Rolling over, I get up. Ankle or not, I have to follow him. I tuck my bleeding hand into my armpit to put pressure on the wound, and I limp after him.

            The two of us are a pitiful sight. Sirius trying to storm off into the fog, his legs obviously no better than mine. Me following, naked and bloody, practically hopping.

            After about thirty seconds, Sirius whirls around. “I am so angry at you right now. If we hadn’t already nearly killed one another, I would try to strangle you right now. You were so stupid—”

            “I know I was—”

            “You nearly killed a family! Do you understand that? Never mind what you did to me, though I could wring your neck for that. Ten kilometre radius, my aristocratic arse! You were ten seconds from killing an infant before I got between you. Four people nearly dead because you were so intent on a truth you’ll never be able to prove! Is it that important to you, Remus? Is it?!”

            I shake my head. “No. Of course not. Never.”

            “Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” Before I can answer, Sirius screws his face up and yells, “I don’t give a shit if you mean it or not! From now on, you’ll take your bloody medicine and pretend to be an adult and if you don’t, I’ll put you in the ground however many times it takes to make it stick.” He stops, seeming satisfied, then points at me again. “Fuck yourself.”

            He turns his back on me, trying to take a step, but he stumbles, barely catching himself. Sirius stands there, breathing heavily.

            I stand here, exposed, bloody, in the middle of nowhere. I’ve hurt us both. Denying the monster nearly got us both killed.

            “You’re right,” I say. “You’re right about everything.”

            “Of course I am,” Sirius snaps. He rubs a hand over his chest, letting out a hiss of pain.

            “I’m sorry. I did something incredibly stupid. It won’t happen again.” He starts to speak, but I say, “I promise on my mother and father that I will take the potions every time going forward. I promise to never let this happen again.”

            Sirius lets his head fall back. He reaches up, straightening his hair. At least I know that he’s starting to calm down. He hobbles back around to face me. “Did you not think about this?” Sirius asks, incredulous. “Did you really not think about what could happen to us if you made that idiotic choice?”

            “No,” I say honestly. “I know I told you last night that I did, but I didn’t.”

            “ _Why_? You’re the most cynically logical man I’ve ever met. Why didn’t you consider that the worst could happen? _Would_ probably happen?”

            “Because it was easier to think this was a dream than real. It seemed like there might be a chance for me to right some wrongs. To have things I wanted. It didn’t seem realistic.”

            Sirius sighs. “Remus. For fuck’s sake, mate. I can’t be around you if you’re willing to get us both killed to prove the universe hates you.”

            I swallow. “All right,” I say softly.

            Sirius drops his head. “I don’t mean that.” He looks at me with his one good eye. “But you have to understand—I don’t know either if this is real. I _think_ it is, because Merlin knows I didn’t have to bite off your claws in the Veil to keep you from gutting me. This sure as hell does not seem to me like our eternal reward. But I still can’t say whether this is real or not. The way I can’t tell you for certain if the first thirty-six years of my life were a dream. The way I don’t know if twelve years in Azkaban were only a fucking nightmare. I can’t live here, though, and act like it might all collapse at any second. I can’t play chicken with my second chance. I love you, I love you so much it’s hard to stand, but you are going to drive me fucking insane if you try to fuck up our second chance.”

            “This isn’t our second chance.”

            “Okay, come closer so I can kill you—”

            “It’s probably our twentieth or thirtieth chance,” I clarify. “Maybe a hundredth. We have had so many chances, and I fucked them all up. I’ve done this all our lives. All our death as well. I know this might be the last chance. I don’t want to waste it.”

            Sirius exhales through his nose. “You weren’t responsible for all those last chances. I did my share.”

            “I was scared.”

            “I know you were. Did you think I wasn’t?”

            “No.”

            “Merlin’s bollocks, Moony. Loving you has always been terrifying. Loving you because you were a boy. Loving you because you were half Muggle. Loving you because you were smarter than me. Kinder than me. Better than me, more loyal than me—”

            “Now you’re being hyperbolic—”

            “Would you shut your mouth? Let me _speak_. I might have seemed plenty confident over the years, but loving you scared the living hell out of me. But I love you more than fear. I loved you so much I kidnapped you when you were dead, which I am so sorry for—”

            “I made the choice to stay. I knew what I’d done.”

            “That’s up for debate. Remus—we’ve had a rough past, and we’ve been awful to each other, and I want that to stop. I love you more than fear, and I wish you felt the same.” Sirius shrugs, at a loss.

            The boy from the train seems a million years away. I suppose he is.

            I limp over to him. I put my arms around him, not bothering to be careful with him. Sirius grunts, but he puts his good hand to my back. I rest my head against his. We hold one another up.

            I murmur, “Can you be patient with me?”

            “Sod off.”

            Pushing back enough to look into his grey eyes, I say, “I don’t know what to do with the idea of a future. It’s never occurred to me before. I can’t promise you to change overnight—shut up, I know what you’re going to say—but…I can’t stay away from you. I wouldn’t want to. I belong to you. Always have. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t really matter where we are or why. I’m tired of being afraid.”

            Sirius gazes at me and says with a straight face, “Pull yourself together, Moony. I don’t know why you have to be so sentimental.”

            Cracking up, I say, “I take it back. To hell with all this.” Sobering, I touch his face. I will find my wand and I will heal his face. Enough hurting one another. Time to heal. “I’m yours. In all realities.”

            Sirius smiles for me. He pushes his face forward, kissing me. I press my lips to where I split his, then I kiss along his face as he wraps his arm around me again.

            We stand there a moment until I get a chill from the wind blowing across my ass, and presumably the blood loss. “Let’s find home,” I say, touching Sirius’ hair and moving to his side.

            “Let’s find a bed,” Sirius replies, starting to walk.

            “How did I know your first thought would be sex?”

            “I need to recuperate, you ingrate. It says more about you that your mind went there.”

            “I think my ankle is broken.”

            “I don’t know what you’re whining for. I’m obviously worse off.”

            “In what capacity?”

            “Every capacity.”

            “Why do you always need to win?”

            “Because I deserve to.”

            “Impossible,” I mutter.

            Sirius replies, “Pot calling the fucking kettle black.” He slips his arm through mine. We limp together into the fog, bodies broken, yet again. Still, we make for home.


	31. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end. Thank you so much to everyone who came this far. I appreciate your dedication, and I hope you all take a break with some fluff after this one.   
> So--let's see how it finishes, shall we? 
> 
>  
> 
> _

When I was a boy, I boarded a train not knowing what awaited me on the other side. I did so at the behest of a man who was complicated, who had his reasons for wanting me to make the journey that were not altogether altruistic. I walked onto that train not knowing what I would become. I met another boy on the train, and the course of my life was set.

            Now I wait for the train to come in, at the end of all things.

            King’s Cross is white and silent. The station shimmers around me. I have waited some time. The offer to continue when I came here again was extended, but I declined. At least until the train brings another passenger.

            Unlike the last time I came to this version of King’s Cross, there is no Veil. I’m not sure whether I expected it or not. A long time ago, I found my surroundings to be a great concern. But that was when I was young. I was young, but I thought I was old. Things had barely even started. Real, a dream, something else entirely—it doesn’t matter. What does matter is what you choose to do with the chances you’re given.

            I have no regrets regarding my choice.

            A whistle sounds in a distance, and I raise my head. My mouth turns to a smile. I’ve been here—days? Years? Whatever it might have been, it was too long. I try not to be impatient, but—well, to be parted from him for any length of time is a burden. Even with time being subjective and all.

            I get to my feet as the train rounds the corner. I’m wearing my favourite thing he ever made for me. A green suit that was unlike anything else I ever wore. He gave it to me the first time we crossed the globe together, making me swear to wear it on every continent. I told him he was being ridiculous, but I did it anyway, and nearly froze my bollocks off in Antarctica.

            There are people still to board the train. People I loved, people we both loved. We were so loved.

            The train chugs along, slowing with a soft squeal. The train glitters brilliantly. I straighten my jacket, wanting to look presentable. I want him to look at me and remember all the reasons why.

            He’s hanging in the door as the train slows to a crawl. Sirius smirks at me, and my imaginary heart flutters at the sight of him. I don’t bother pretending to be indifferent to his arrival. We can tease one another on some other occasion.

            The train stops, depositing him directly in front of me. Sirius stands above me, in a suit made of starlight. “You know me,” he says. “I have to make an entrance.”

            Beaming, I tell him, “I waited.”

            He smiles at me with an affection that can only be earned by decades. “I know you did.”

            He steps down off the train, and I see so many different people in him. I see a boy trying to hide his insecurities with cruelty. I see a young man with a glint in his eye and a cocksure way about him. I see the man who learned more than his share, the man who decided to keep me. I see an old man with white hair. I see him flip that hair back the same way he has ever since he was a child.

            Sirius puts his hands to my face and kisses me with such love that I could bloom. I feel the station start to give way around us. I cannot focus on anything other than him. The station peels away, increasingly given to whiteness.

            He keeps his hands to my face, looking me over. I wonder if he sees all the people I have been. Whatever he sees, Sirius softens. “I didn’t mean to take so long. I had more years than I expected.”

            “How were they?”

            “Miserable without you. My life was half a life.” I nuzzle my face against his as Sirius tells me, “You’re my second self.”

            “You spent all those years fucking yourself?”

            He snorts, and brushes his nose along mine. “What now?” he murmurs.

            “What would you like to be next?”

            “I want to do it all over again. I want to take every single chance I missed. I want to live our life all over again.”

            “No.”

            Sirius raises a brow, exasperated. “If you had other plans, why didn’t you say that? If you’ve got a better idea, spit it out.”

            I take him by the lapels of his starlit suit, and I say, “I want to do something completely different. I don’t want to relive anything. I want an entirely new life. And I want it with you.” I smile and say, “I am more than ready to let the past die.”

            Sirius thinks about it. He reaches up, offering me his hand.

            As I take his hand, he calls me by my secret name one last time, and tells me he loves me. The world reorders around us, and I hold onto him as something new begins.

            I have been many people. There will be more to come, and more chances. There will be a future. That will be our reward.

            There will be more worlds. And I will love him in every single one.


End file.
